


Tough Luck

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Background Polyamory, Background Relationships, Coincidences, From Sex to Love, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, Just Usual Prosthesis, M/M, No Alchemy, No Automail, Police, Prostitution, Semi-Public Sex, WOOPWOOPitsthesoundofthepolice, did i mention there is actually a plot, discontinued, for the sake of plot, ling and greed are weird as shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alphonse is in a coma and Edward would do <em>anything</em> for his brother. It just happens to be luck that he meets Mustang, who isn't a typical <em>client</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait, What?

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no I'm writing another AU.

The first time Edward Elric sold himself, he'd only been fifteen years old. He had cried, and locked himself in the bathroom of his ratty apartment once he'd been dismissed. He stayed in the shower for four hours after the water turned cold, and cried again. Now, he was seventeen. It wasn't any easier, but he handled it better. 

He had a job at the library as well, but that only paid so much and he couldn't afford to be lacking. Alphonse needed him, and he would do absolutely _anything_ for his younger brother. Even though he knew Al would probably be unable to look at him if he was aware of what Edward was doing. 

Assuming, of course, if he ever woke up...

 

"Nice car," Edward cooed, leaning into the passenger side window. "Wheels like these, I bet you get around. You got somewhere to be tonight, Sweetheart?" 

The man in the car already looked flustered, and Edward wasn't sure if it was out of disgust or appreciation yet. He'd taken his hair out of his usual braid, and his long red coat rested around his elbows. His shirt was also just a bit too small, displaying a line of skin above his low waistline as well as being of a sheer, thin black fabric. His pants covered his legs, fitting somewhat in a bell-bottomed style but not quite as tacky. They were tight around his hips but looser at the lower legs making his trans-femoral prosthetic less likely to be noticed. At the risk of vanity, he was well aware of the fact he looked good this way. Of this he was equal parts proud and disturbed.

"I only stopped to ask directions. Nevermind...Fucking hookers..." And the car sped off, leaving Edward both disappointed and relieved at the same time.

He should have probably felt offended too, but Hell, he didn't like it much either. He frowned as a wet drop landed on his head, signalling rain. He sighed and headed toward the nearest bar, bending to retrieve his fake ID card from his left boot. He didn't drink, but bars were full of horny drunks happy to part with their money and he couldn't very well stay in the rain. His leg wasn't made for moisture.

He was greeted warmly enough when he entered The Devil's Nest, Ling always treated him well. Of course, Ling was an odd man. He inherited the bar from a man who called himself Greed, and since Ling owned the place now he also used the name. 

Edward was no psychologist, but he'd bet money on Ling having a split personality. He would never mention it aloud though, it was just an observation. It had nothing to do with the Alias, as Edward had his own.

_Nicolai Flamel_. Funny how a famous name could be overlooked easily if it was altered just a bit.

"Flamel! Nice to see you. Have a seat, take a load off." Ling, or perhaps Greed, called as Edward shut the door behind him. "Dorochet, get the kid a ginger ale."

Edward sat down, happy to take the weight off of his leg. He glanced around after he'd been delivered his drink. There were a total of five people in the bar and three of them worked there.

"Thanks. Wow...It's pretty dead tonight." He voiced, tapping his fingers on the countertop.

"Well it _is_ Sunday. Most people who come in here are looking to get hammered and start shit." The Xingese man snorted, wiping up a few crumbs from the far side of the bar. "I think you're the only person I've ever met that leaves here sober."

Edward chuckled dryly, and turned in his stool to rest his back against the bar. He glanced over at the other patron curiously. 

He was a man with black hair and dark eyes. Attractive enough, and probably sad judging by the fact he was in a bar when he no doubt had work tomorrow. He didn't seem the type to respond sincerely to flattery though, Edward could sense an air of self-loathing. He knew that feeling well enough to recognise it. _Silent approach would be better._

So, Edward fixed a hunter's glare on the man across the room and continued to wordlessly sip his ginger ale. He found it an amusing fact that he was drinking through a straw, given what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

Eventually the other man did look up, and Edward realized now that he could see clearly, his eyes were blue. His gaze was cold, eyes narrowed as if the man had a headache. He kept a steady eye contact for a moment, then stood to approach Edward. _Cold and confidant. Interesting._

Edward crossed his legs and leaned back a bit further, setting his drink down. Ling busied himself by starting to mix a drink, even though none had been ordered and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _'I'm not running a fucking brothel here, fuck all of you with a spoon'_. 

The man neared Edward, leaning over him once he was close. 

"Can you drive?" The man asked, and Edward was caught off guard.

"Um...Wha...? Yes. Why?"

"My name is Roy Mustang, and you're driving me home." And suddenly, Edward had a ring of keys shoved into his hand.

"Uh...Alright?" He wasn't even sure why he agreed, but he did.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd get something out of it.


	2. Bad Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Ed is so far out of his comfort zone and can't tell whether it's a good thing or not yet.  
> {Fun Fact: The Author is exactly five feet tall and has to do the counter-climbing-thing any time he wants to drink anything.}

The majority of Dublith had rented apartments, with quality varying on wealth. Edward usually rated the apartments he'd 'visited' on a pretty standard scale of one to ten. His own was a solid two, and the farthest up the scale he'd ever been was _maybe_ a shaky six-point-five. He was not expecting to pull into the driveway of an actual _house_.

The exterior was some pale shade of blue, or perhaps green but it was hard to tell in the dark. The door had a fancy rounded top and a mail slot. The windows were the same shape. There seemed to be two levels. It looked expensive and Edward was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Thank you for driving. Would you like to come in?" Roy asked once the car was off.

With the exception of the somewhat intoxicated man calling out directions and the sound of the engine and the rain pelting the car, the ride had been silent. The question was a bit unexpected, but Edward supposed it was an inevitable one. He was proud of the fact that though he was caught off guard, he'd kept his game face on. he carded his fingers through his hair, then placed his hand on the older man's thigh.

"That depends on what you want." Edward purred, then fell into his standard 'business speech'. "My hands are fifty, mouth is one hundred. The Works is around five hundred, but any weird shit's going to cost you more."

Mustang, to his credit, was barely phased. "The Works is a bit pricey, don't you think?"

"That's because I'm clean. I can just walk home if you don't want to pay for anything." Edward went ahead and opened the car door just to make sure he was clear, silently thanking the forces of the universe that the rain had begun to slack off.

"Alright, five hundred it is...Does that price hold all night?" Roy asked, also exiting the car.

Edward stopped and stood, turning to look directly into the cold cobalt eyes. Two thoughts simultaneously flitted through his mind.

_Oh shit, I picked up a freak. I'm going to end up so fucking sore._

And...

_I could probably get a thousand out of this asshole._

The blonde shifted his weight to his right hip, looking the other man over for a moment. He then sauntered around the car. He rolled his weight to his right hip and leaned on the vehicle. He lifted his left leg and hiked up his pant leg to display the steel rods and polycentric joint that formed his left leg.

"Since you're going to end up seeing it anyway. You still want a slumber party?"

Roy _gaped_ at the sight of the prosthetic. To Edward's relief, though, there was no outward signs of disgust which was more than could be said for some of the other men and women he'd had the displeasure of servicing. _Yes, women._ They were rarer as clients but there were the odd few once in a blue moon.

When Roy didn't answer Edward shoved the shiny cloth back down over his synthetic limb. "All night's a thousand if you're still up for it. If not, I'll just-"

"Done." Mustang interrupted, and headed toward the front door of his darkened house.

 

Mustang hung his coat on a hook near the door once he'd closed it, having allowed Edward to enter before him. He then slipped off his shoes and lead the shorter one directly to his bedroom and Edward was for a moment impressed.

_Well, he's certainly not one to waste time._

Roy Mustang was evidently more drunk than he initially appeared as he drowsily flopped onto his bed, located on the first floor much to Edward's relief. He could handle stairs just fine, but they were still tricky and all the shock went straight to his hip.

The dark-haired man fell still aside from his breathing, and Edward found himself lingering awkwardly in the doorway of the room.

_Did he fall **asleep**? What the fuck?_

Deciding to do the nice thing, Edward ventured into the kitchen they had passed on the way to the bedroom and began searching for the cups. After ten whole minutes, he found them on the top shelf of the cupboard just to the right of the sink, out of his reach.

"Oh, _fuck_ tall people." The teen muttered, and grumpily began climbing onto the counter top. 

He kept most of his weight on his right knee, knowing from experience that his left didn't bear weight well in a bent position. He took one of the larger cups down and set it down beside him, then closed the cupboard and climbed down again.

He filled the cup with tap water after rinsing it out, and let it sit on the table. With that done, he sighed and began trudging toward the door. He hadn't been paid yet, and a sleeping client was useless. Determined to at least get _something_ out of the apparently void arrangement, he checked the blue coat at the door for a wallet.

He found his quarry easily enough and opened the leather folds in search of cash. He very nearly squawked when what he found instead was a badge. A police badge. 

_Oh hell. He's a fucking cop._

He replaced the wallet quickly and tried to make sure the coat looked undisturbed. He then returned to the glass of water from the table and carried it to the bedroom, setting it down on the end table so the _officer_ would find it easily. 

"I'm not going to jail for this shit..." Edward muttered, and turned to leave.

Instead of moving forward like he had intended, he felt him self pulled backward to fall back onto the bed. A single finger had hooked into his belt loop to prevent his departure, or at the very least delay it.

"Just lay with me. Sleep if you want, you'll have your thousand in the morning." Came the drowsy, low, almost rough voice of Mustang.

 _I'm a fucking idiot._ Edward decided very quickly, as he did what he was told. _This is too easy, there's a catch somewhere and I'm going to fucking jail_.


	3. Pretty Standard

Edward did not sleep, though he did allow himself to doze. It gave him more than enough to think out his situation a bit better.

This guy was a police officer. Prostitution, whether you were buying or selling, was _illegal_. Crooked cops were a thing, Edward knew, but they were usually pricks that were taking bribes or dipping into drugs. Mustang had essentially bought him purely to have something to hold onto while he slept off his drinks.

Of course, the night wasn't over and he could've bought Edward as a cure for morning wood, but that seemed unlikely. The officer smelled heavily of whiskey and vanilla. He'd probably be too hungover to want much in the way of strenuous activity.

_He better remember to pay me._

After about two hours, the officer suddenly decided he wanted to spoon. He hadn't woken up, which Edward actually found amusing. He allowed himself to be moved, only somewhat uncomfortable when he had an arm curled around his stomach and a nose shoved against the back of his head.

The position itself was comfortable once he'd gotten used to it, but he was laying on his right. This normally wouldn't have been a problem if he were sleeping on his own, but he wasn't. It may have been prideful, or just insecurity, but Edward Elric _did not_ remove his leg around other people. He didn't care if the officer was asleep or not, his leg was staying on.

The rod of his false shin laid over his natural one uncomfortably, and his stump was starting to itch fiercely. Apparently when Winry had told him not to sleep in it, she'd had valid reasoning. No, he wouldn't remove it. He _would_ loosen it though.

He slowly pulled his left leg upward so it wouldn't be heavily resting on his right and carefully began to unfasten the first two tight straps. He massaged the skin under the casing, which was only a little raw with pressure marks. He froze as the man behind him stirred, hopeful he hadn't woken him up. Mustang shifted, sighed, and stilled again. 

_Good,_ Edward thought dryly, mostly just annoyed because his leg ached. _You just stay asleep._

 

The shrill ringing of an alarm clock sounded at exactly six-thirty in the morning, drawing Edward out of his zoned-out state.The officer began moving, a displeased groan sounding as he rolled away from the younger man. He pressed his fingers over his closed eyelids, obviously feeling his drinks.

Edward quickly tightened the straps that kept his leg on, and sat up before Mustang was awake enough to notice that he'd messed with his leg at all. He reached over for the water on the end table, handing it over as soon as Mustang was also upright.

"Oh," Roy mumbled, still drowsy as he took the water and silenced the clock.

He drank ravenously, then stood to change out of the rumpled clothes he'd slept in. He redressed in starched black dress pants, a white undershirt, and a navy overshirt that completed the look of a uniform. The boots were just icing on the cake, as they looked professionally shined.

 _Yep. The badge is real._

"Morning." Roy called once he looked presentable, though he was still obviously tired.

"Good morning." Edward responded stiffly. "You remember what happened, right?"

_If he blacked out I'm going to kick him._

"Of course," Roy left the room for a few seconds, returning with a roll of bills. 

He tossed the roll onto the bed, and Edward took it to begin counting. It was probably rude, but he wasn't one to take money lightly. 

"You know, you kind of wasted your money if last night is seriously all you wanted." He pointed out, but shoved the bills into his boot to make it clear that he wasn't going to give any of it back.

"I also wasted your time. You should be compensated. Are you complaining?" Came the cool reply. "Do you need a ride home?"

"No. I'll walk, I've got work anyway."

"You work?"

"Obviously."

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable, and on Edward's end _angry_ silence. It was broken by Roy, who didn't actually sound all that apologetic.

"I'm sorry. I just assumed you were in this line of work because you couldn't find employment elsewhere." 

Edward scoffed and took a hair tie from his pocket. He gathered his hair and began to braid it, straightened out his coat, and looped all of the buttons to cover himself. He did not like drawing extra attention during his all too common walk of shame.

"Sure. I'm leaving, have a nice day or whatever."

 

Edward did not have to be at the library until nine, so instead of going straight home he trudged toward the hospital first. It wasn't a long walk, but he'd spent the night wearing his leg and refused to actually sleep around a stranger so it left him a bit winded.

He was greeted by a pregnant woman in an official white coat. "Hello Ed! In to see Alphonse so early?"

"Hey Mrs. Hughes. I can't stay too long, no. I just needed to drop this off." He knelt to retrieve the money from his boot and handed it over to the doctor. "Any change yet?"

The doctor sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. He isn't getting any worse though, so there's that."

"Alright. I'll come back later and read to him. I have to go. Please make sure that gets transferred right."

Gracia frowned, as she straightened out the money and fitted it into a small envelope. "You be safe..."

Edward was aware that the doctor had already figured out how he was getting the money, and while she disliked it she still understood. She hadn't said anything, and for that as well as making sure the payments were made correctly, he was grateful.

 

Working at the library was peaceful. Edward had one co-worker in his shift name Sheska, and she was nice. Despite the fact she spent nearly every second reading instead of working, he liked her and was happy to take on her responsibilities as well. 

Besides, she always had an extra sweater for him to borrow on the occasion he hadn't had time to change his clothes. In this case, a knitted red turtle-neck.

"Thanks, I owe you." He called as he removed his coat to pull the sweater on over his black shirt.

It was a bit tight on him, being made for a woman, but it was much more appropriate for work. He pulled his braid out from the back of the neck, and took a seat with a heavy sigh.

"No problem. Are you alright? You're limping a bit."

"It's nothing, go ahead and read. I'll take care of the return cart in a minute."

There really wasn't much to do, other than mark down which books had been checked out and make sure returns were shelved properly. It really was a one-person job, but there were always two to a shift. Edward supposed that was why the pay sucked but it was better than just hooking.


	4. Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day. Woo! Bit of feels here and now I feel a little bad.

Roy drove to the police station with his thoughts weighing heavy on his aching mind. Someday he'd learn to be mindful of work before overdoing it. A cop with a hangover was laughable. 

It was also really irritating, so Roy tried his best to make it to his office without incident. Fate did not smile on him, as he almost instantly met his partner on the way in. His very loud, overly cheerful partner.

"Yo Roy! Gracia just hit her eighth month today! Baby'll be here in no time. I bet they'll look just like their mother. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Good for you, Hughes." Mustang replied dryly.

He was used to the other man's constant fawning, but at the moment it was grating.

"You look rough. Have a good night then?" Hughes began to snicker as he took a seat at his desk, spinning in the chair in a childish fashion. 

"No." Roy deadpanned, taking his own seat and looking over the large stack of paperwork in the corner of his desk with disdain.

He _hated_ paperwork. His migraine only made the stack of it that much more unappealing. He rifled through them anyway, just to see what most of them were.

_Petty theft, petty theft, trespassing, petty theft, breaking and entering, arson, and even more petty theft._

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut for a moment. He then separated the arson case from the rest of the stack to actually read it instead of just skimming over it. The name of the Accused was Zolf Kimblee and he had a history of making homemade explosives. He was already in custody, just awaiting trial for now.

Roy did _not_ want to deal with this case.

 

 

At the end of his shift, being two in the afternoon, Edward checked out a paperback copy of _The Canterbury Tales_ for himself. 

"I'll bring back your sweater tomorrow if that's okay?" He called on his way out. "Don't let Izumi catch you reading on the job."

"Uh...Yeah, sure." Sheska replied, though obviously distracted by the gardening book she'd just started. "Tell Al I said 'Hi."

Edward shook his head fondly as he left, amused by the mousey girl's usual one-track mind. He crossed the street and started walking west toward his apartment. He needed a shower and a new set of clothes before he went back to the hospital.

 

 

The wallpaper peeled, a window was boarded up rather than replaced, and if Edward wanted hot water he had to boil it. He spent money on rent, basic plumbing, food, condoms, soap, and the rest went to Al. If it wasn't something he needed to survive and be at least somewhat safe, he didn't buy it. It was somewhere between minimalist and squalor, but Edward had somewhere to keep his clothes and bathe so he wasn't going to complain.

He disrobed and sat on the edge of the bath, running the water as he removed his left leg, propping it up on the sink. He crawled into the tub once he was ready, pulled the curtain closed, and pulled the tab to start the shower going.

He took his hair out of its braid and slipped the tie onto his wrist to wash his hair. The soap was cheap an unscented, but he didn't care much what he smelled like as long as he was _clean_. He had a very high appreciation of cleanliness so he made a point of taking a shower every chance he got.

 

 

Edward reached the hospital with his hair still wet, but braided. He wore a black jacket with silver trimmings as well as a pair of dark cargo pants. The book he'd checked out was clasped tightly to his chest, as he was paranoid about losing it. He was not going to waste money on library fees.

Gracia escorted him to room 249 cheerfully, despite Edward's own melancholic demeanor. She was trying to bring his mood up, he could tell, but it was an impossible feat given his only family had been pretty much a vegetable for over two years.

"Hey Al. Got a new book today. You like Classics right?" He greeted, forcing a light tone and a smile.

He got no answer, but that fact had become normal. Gracia shot Edward a sympathetic smile, checked Alphonse's vitals, and left the brothers alone. Edward seated himself at the edge of the bed and opened the book, flipping through the foreword to get to the first chapter. He took a deep breath, though his heart ached, and began to read aloud quietly as if his brother were _only_ sleeping.

He read right through the first two _Tales_ without pause, then checked the page number before closing the book.

"You read the stuffiest things." Edward teased, doing his best to feign normalcy, "Winry and Sheska both told me to tell you they say 'Hi'. I know you don't know Sheska but Winry misses you... We all miss you."

A few minutes passed with only the beeping monitors for noise. Alphonse did not speak. He did not move. There were no changes apparent in the machines he was hooked up to, keeping him alive.

Edward hated how insignificant he felt. He couldn't help Al get better. All he could do was keep the plug from being pulled a little longer. It was expensive, but he'd do what he could.

Edward removed himself from the bed and took a couple of steps so he could lean over his brother, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"You be good for Mrs. Hughes. No wild parties in here, alright? I'll see you tomorrow. Love you."

He tore his eyes away from the boy on the bed, biting back tears as he went unanswered. Again. He left the hospital room, closing the door quietly behind him. He left the hospital and began the trek back to his usual spot near The Devil's Nest. He took his hair down, shaking it out, and unfastened all but the top button of his jacket just under the collar. He had no shirt on underneath. He adjusted his pants to sit low on his hips and fixed a cool mask of indifference on his face.

_Game time._


	5. Regulars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ling/Greed switchies is fun and complicated. Also, I am on a roll with updates for this.

Mondays were hell on Edward, at least they were for his _night job_. Thursdays through Saturdays always offered much better pickings. He loitered around the pawn shop at the corner of the sidewalk for a few hours and only two cars even slowed down.

He did get catcalled by one red-head with an unfortunate mustache. "Hey it's my birthday! I should get some on the house."

"I don't do free." Edward then snorted, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the brick wall of the shop. "You want my ass, you gotta pay for it."

"Cheap bitch..."

"Actually I'm pretty expensive. If you want cheap you can fuck off." The blonde crossed his arms in front of him, smirking at the ginger man who was painfully obvious in the fact he just wanted to start an argument.

The man only huffed, muttering curses and slurs as he gave up and entered the shop. Edward sighed, and tugged at his sleeves. There was no cash to be made today apparently, so he decided to call it a night. As usual, he headed to The Devil's Nest. Even if he wasn't baiting anymore, Ling and his staff were always good company. On a good day he'd even call them his friends.

 

Roy left his own work at the Police Station at five o'clock. His nerves were shot and he was grateful that Hughes had been at least partially mindful of his volume. Still, he _had_ briefly contemplated the pros and cons of shooting Maes in the foot. He decided not to on the grounds that he would be fired and it was just as likely that Maes's crying would be just as grating as his fawning.

At least he could mostly ignore the fawning. Crying and screaming just brought on more bad feelings. He spent the day signing things, rearranging his desk, and at one point he responded to an obvious prank call which he had forwarded to Hughes's line in an attempt at passive revenge.

He found his mind kept wandering back to the bar and the events of last night. It was strange. His foster mother had run a brothel at one point, but he'd never bought a prostitute before. He'd been drunk at the time, but that was really nothing special. He wondered what was different about this encounter.

He'd never had to pay for sex. Technically, he still hadn't but the intent had been there. He was usually well off, getting along nicely with both men and women. Everyone had a type, but Roy had a wide range of types.

 _Gold_. He suddenly remembered. _His eyes were golden._

Of course, he'd been lured by the eyes. He then realized with a jolt that he didn't know the alluring blonde's name. Even if he asked, he knew most prostitutes gave out false names anyway. Regardless, he wanted to talk to him again.

Making a decision, albeit probably a stupid one, he steered his car in the direction of The Devil's Nest. He decided he was extremely lucky when he entered the bar to find exactly who he was looking for, arm-wrestling with a woman who had short hair and tattoos.

 

If asked, Edward would say that he _totally_ let Martel win as the back of his hand connected roughly with the counter top. He had his pride, tattered though it may be.

Greed looked up from where he'd been cheering Martel on toward the door, then snickered. 

"Wow Nic. Who did _you_ kill?" He teased, and Edward was momentarily confused. 

Greed only nodded toward the door, and Edward swiveled in his seat to lock eyes with none other than Roy Mustang, who was in his _police uniform_. Edward very quickly came to the decision that he was definitely in trouble. He momentarily thought about calling Roa, but he wasn't stupid. Roa wouldn't throw a cop out of the bar.

"Well, fuck." He breathed.

"Watch your language." The officer tutted, sitting down right next to him.

A beat of silence passed as Greed was suddenly Ling as he asked nervously, "Is there a problem, officer?"


	6. Unwise and Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ling does the thing and Roa is totally an indirect bodyguard. I also may have hidden a pun somewhere because I'm a hilarious asshole.

Edward's first response was internal panic. There was a cop, in uniform, in The Devil's Nest. That alone spelled trouble all by itself, but this particular cop _knew_ about his night job without doubt.

Instead of the usual intense, smoldering eye-contact Edward was so accustomed to, he met the Officer's eyes with fear. Mustang recognized the look.

"Relax, I just want-" He tried to explain, but before he'd finished his sentence the blonde made an attempt to dart around him toward the door.

A strong hand clamped around Edwards arm, catching him off balance. His knee didn't lock and he wound up on the floor with a click and a thud. His prosthetic was _not_ meant for running.

Roy released his arm to help him up. Edward noticed as he was once again upright that Ling was now absent and Roa was standing formidably in front of the door to the back room. Evidently the bar-owner had taken the opprotunity presented by the distraction to make himself scarce.

_Could've guessed he'd hide._

"Sorry about that. Now, are you going to listen this time?" The officer asked calmly.

"Yeah, sure. So you can arrest me right? Undercover bastard..." Edward nearly snarled and took a step back. "I got shit to do, I don't have time for that."

Roy frowned, confused before he remembered he was still wearing his uniform. Edward just continued inching backward, limping slightly, until he was at a more comfortable distance.

The officer sighed, rolling his eyes. "No one is getting arrested. I'm off-duty anyway. Calm down."

Edward glanced over to Roa, who only shrugged, and he supposed he was right in his initial assumption that the massive bull of a man wasn't going to help him unless there was dire need. 

_Figures..._ "Okay, I'll bite. What do you want?"

"A name would be nice, for starters."

"Nicolai Flamel, nice to meet you." Edward huffed, sounding not at all pleased.

"That's an odd name."

"Says the fucking _horse_."

 

Officer Mustang was not a stupid man. He did not make stupid choices. He did not saunter into seedy bars purely to see if he could find an unnamed male prostitute. That is not the sort of thing Officer Mustang did. And yet, Roy had done that exact thing and hadn't even had the foresight to remove his official navy blue overshirt.

He'd also accidently sent an amputee to the floor and judging on how said amputee was now moving, the leg was probably damaged now. Either that or he'd hurt himself on his way down. Either way, it didn't help the fact that the shorter man did not seem happy to see him at all. The verbal exchange fared no better.

Still, the blonde intrigued him. More than anything, he was deeply curious. H ignored the comment on his name, as he'd heard it before. _Frequently_. 

The blonde, _Nicolai,_ had a familiar name. It was obviously an alias, that much was sure. Probably borrowed from fiction, but Roy had no way to be certain. 

_At least it's better than calling him Goldielocks or something else equally stupid._

And yet here he was, about to do something extremely stupid anyway.

"I don't suppose I could ask for your company two nights in a row, could I?" He asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow as if he were asking a silly rhetoric.

"You're serious?"

"Deathly. I'll be in the car for the next few minutes. It's up to you." With that, he left the bar, glad it had been mostly empty.

Given how the bar owner had fled the first moment he could, nobody in The Devil's Nest was innocent anyway. He returned to his vehicle and sat in the driver's seat without turning it on. He did crank down the window though, to rest his arm there.

_I suppose the 'I was drunk,' excuse won't hold up now. Stupid._

The self-scolding was ended as a knock sounded against the passenger side window, which was still up. On the other side of the glass stood _Nicolai_ , a cheeky, insincere grin plastered on his face. Roy leaned over to open the door for him, and the younger man climbed right in.

"Good evening, Officer. My prices haven't changed and all night stays a thousand whether you fuck me or not. Try not to waste your money this time. Hell, might even charge you extra, I think you screwed up my knee."

Roy chuckled. The entire situation was ridiculous.


	7. Let's Get Started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how Cenz actually work so for this fic 2 Cenz = 1 dollar. Probably should have made it clear earlier but oh well.

Second time at Mustang's _house_ in a row, and Edward had a feeling that it wouldn't stop at sleepy, drunken cuddling this time. Especially considering the fact that the officer was not drunk in the slightest.

What kind of cop could actually afford to blow two thousand Cenz in two days in the first place? Something wasn't adding up and Edward really wanted to know what it was. This man was more polite than most he'd been with but he also seemed shady. Of course, Edward was paranoid and had grown very cynical over time.

They stopped in the kitchen and Edward seated himself on the table as Mustang started looking through his refrigerator. The table was made of a smooth, dark wood. It had no cloth, but was home to two coasters and the same number of chairs. Evidently the officer was used to bringing single guests into his home.

"Would you like something to drink? There's light beer, milk, and orange juice."

"No, thanks." Edward looked up at the cool voice, settling backward to rest his weight on his elbows and swinging his natural leg idly. "You don't pick up many hookers, do you?"

"No, I suppose I don't. I don't usually have to pay." Mustang closed the fridge again, having taken nothing out, and turned around to face his guest. "Use a chair, dammit. I eat there."

"Fine," _Prude._ Edward slid off the table's edge and flipped one of the chairs around to sit in it backward, leaning against the back of the chair. "So, before you fall asleep, what's the plan?"

"You are going to check your leg and see if you're actually up to do anything. Wouldn't want it breaking." Came the apparently very thought out response. "Then we'll see."

"Prosthetic maintenance. Weird kink but okay." He still would never remove his leg in front of anyone, but he _did_ pull up his pant leg to check his knee. "Mind if I ask why you're paying _me_ if you get other guys free so easily?"

The officer sat across from him, leaning to rest his chin on his hand with a thoughtful smirk. He didn't answer, so Edward rolled his eyes and turned his attention solely to his leg, ignoring the far too interested look he was receiving. He didn't particularly like staring, despite being used to it.

The leg had already begun feeling awkward to walk on since his tumble. The rods were steel, but the joints in his knee and ankle were much more sensitive than the rest of the artificial limb. The knee itself was loose, but thankfully still holding together.

"I've got a washer and screw loose. It'll rattle but it's fine for now unless you've got a screwdriver hidden somewhere."

 

Roy would admit that he _had_ looked at Nicolai's leg with pity the first time he'd seen it. The fact that he was missing a leg, coupled with the fact it had been missing long enough for the blonde to be able to walk fluidly on it with nearly no sign of it being unnatural for him was nothing short of both sad and amazing. Now, though, that pity was gone to make way for pure fascination. He briefly wondered if that fascination should be a reason for him to worry.

Blonde, gold eyes, and probably one hell of a story to tell. The longer he looked, the more things he noticed. The leg was interesting all by itself, but there were also faint scars over what he could see of Nicolai's stomach. He felt the urge to ask, but didn't think he'd get an honest answer. He was rather snarky for a hooker anyway, which only served to make him even more interesting.

"No, I don't have any tools." Roy answered in response to the request. "I have some butterknives if that would work?"

"No, I wouldn't be able to get a decent enough grip to turn it tight enough. It'll be fine for now." The pant leg came down, hiding the leg once more as the blonde slipped his fingers into the side of his leather boot.

Roy was only somewhat surprised when the younger man pulled a condom of of his shoe like some ridiculous magic trick. The condom was then tossed to the center of the table far too casually.

"You _are_ using that." He stated, tone leaving no room for argument.

"Of course, I figured as much." Roy chuckled, then began to unbutton his overshirt, which he settled over the back of his chair.

He then toed off his shoes and socks, running his bare feet over the carpet for a moment. The day's stress was catching up to him. He glanced over to Nicolai, who had apparently taken the removal of shirt and shoes as a sign that he should also begin disrobing. He still had his pants on, but they were unbuttoned and his jacket was off which revealed an interesting scar at the blonde's shoulder and collarbone.

"Alright, come over here. On the floor." Roy instructed, deciding now was as good a time as any to start putting his money to use.


	8. Backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I finally wrote a sex scene.   
> Warnings: Contains sex, momentary learned defense mechanisms, and they never do use that shoe-condom. Whoopsie.

_Here we go._ Edward thought, though kept his internal cringe to himself. Over time, it had become much easier to distance himself from the surroundings and situations that made him uncomfortable. 

It wasn't quite desensitization, as he was still physically responsive. It was much closer to a sort of headspace, like a skilled actor playing a character. It was work, not play. Just a few minutes to an hour that he would have to drag himself through with a mask to keep a client happy, and then he could bathe and push the encounter from his mind to pretend it didn't affect him. In many ways, his work-name helped him keep that necessary distance.

Therefore, as he knelt on the floor in front of the officer, he'd lost his previous attitude. He was no longer completely himself, everything important locked into a vault in his head where it was safe from this. Disgust, anger, and a deep sense of guilt were also pushed away, buried with the rest of the built-up negativity. This way, if he got hurt he wouldn't fully register it.

_Sex is just sex. Selling it is keeping Alphonse alive._

He had a reason. He had a goal. A client's decision to buy him was buying his brother time and he should be grateful that he had to do this. With motivation in place and everything else out of the way, he set to work freeing _the client_ from his trousers.

His knee clicked as he shifted his weight, making sure there wasn't too much pressure on it as he wasn't sure how long he'd even be on his knees. Hopefully not long. Familiar position though it was, it was not comfortable in the slightest.

Button and zipper came free easily, leaving boxers that just had to be pushed down. The client was only halfway hard, which meant more work. Without needing prompt, he ran his hands beneath the white undershirt that had remained on the client for some reason. The shirt in question was removed a moment later. 

With the cloth out of the way, Edward began pressing wet kisses to the man's abdomen. He found dipping his tongue into the client's navel earned an interested twitch from the aroused flesh, which Edward then took into his mouth.

He was not expecting to be pushed off. Edward had never been pushed away by a client. It was entirely new and shattered the headspace he had only _just_ formed. He nearly asked what he'd done wrong, but Mustang spoke first.

"There's not much point if both people aren't into it, is there?"

"Why the hell do you _care_?" Edward asked, openly confused. "The entire point of buying a hooker is so _you_ get off."

Mustang suddenly seemed far to serious for a man with his pants halfway down. His gaze had darkened ominously, in a way that was almost intimidating. Regardless, he stood and pulled his pants up, tucking himself in as he did so. He helped Edward to his feet, took the condom from the table, and lead him into the bedroom instead. Edward resisted the very persistant urge to roll his eyes.

"Are you even attracted to men?" The officer asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and straightening the light green blanket absently.

"I don't see how that matters. Men seem to be attracted to me." Edward stayed standing, leaning to his right against the doorframe.

"That isn't what I asked you." He scooted over and patted the bed next to him. "Come sit."

Edward released an exhasperated sigh and sat where he was instructed. "I don't know, it depends on the person."

"Okay. Do you find me attractive? Honestly."

"You're very pretty. Now what's your point?" Edward asked, some annoyance starting to show in his voice.

The sudden, awkward interrogation was highly unexpected. A client was being considerate, nice even, and Edward had absolutely _no_ idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

"My _point_ is that I prefer sex to be enjoyed on both sides, not just mine."

_Then you made a bad choice buying._ Edward remained silent, allowing himself to fall backward to lay on the bed. "This is stu-What are you doing?"

Edward's pants had already been unfastened since the kitchen, and now he found himself with a pale hand snaking down the front of them. He straightened up, only slightly, to rest his weight on his elbows. He felt the blood rush to his face, among other places. This was not something he was used to and he was _not_ prepared for this odd turn of events.

"Touching you, obviously. No spacing out this time. If you get uncomfortable just tell me to stop."

_Well this is a little backwards._

 

 

It had taken a great amount of willpower to break away from the warm wetness of the blonde's mouth, but he didn't like the glazed over, vacant look dulling the pretty gold eyes. It had appeared as if the younger man had suddenly become mindless, gone from his body for a moment, like a fire being smothered to mere cinders.

It didn't sit well with the officer, and he would at least try to remedy it if he was able. So, only after he knew his guest _could_ find him at least somewhat attractive(Assuming he wasn't being entirely sarcastic.), he set out to make use of the fact by trying to pleasure the other man. Roy decided very quickly that Nicolai _blushing_ was oddly adorable. It also only intensified the warm pulse of arousal that had already begun forming in the kitchen, and was straining now, but he could wait.

Soft flesh began to harden in his hand and he was rewarded with a small, surpressed sound that was similar to a whine.

"Is this alright?" Roy asked, not stopping but also making no attempt to further the process yet.

"S'fine." Came the quick answer, quickly followed by a mumbled, "Shut up."

Roy bit back the urge to chuckle, having noticed as he looked to Nicolai's face that the blonde was now flushed to his shoulders, the scar on his right even more prominent and red. He wondered where that scar had come from, and whether it was related to the false leg or if it was the mark of a different memory altogether. He did not ask, instead leaning and turning so he could run his tongue along the line of discoloured skin. There was the faintest taste of sweat and the smell of cheap soap.

Nicolai stiffened as the scar was touched, and pushed Roy off of him. He wondered if putting attention on the scar was a bad decision, but the fear was unfounded as the blonde man simply began removing his shoes, sock, and already partially-off pants. Six more condoms fell out of the left shoe, and this time Roy did not hold back his snicker.

"What?" Nicolai asked, looking both curious and mildly offended.

Roy gestured to the floor, "Do you really think we'll be needing that many?" He teased.

The younger man snorted, and shoved the shiny packets back into his boot. "I told you, I'm clean."

"I believe you." With that, Roy began to remove his own pants.

It really wasn't fair if only one of them was naked. Especially considering the younger probably had good reason to not like being seen without his trousers. Roy's dark eyes were once again drawn to the artificial leg, focusing on where it connected to the younger man's thigh. It looked like a tight-strapped, plastic and leather casing was all that kept it from falling right off, and it seemed uncomfortable. The knee joint seemed complicated, and the ankle joint was similar just before it connected to the very basic shape of a foot.

"The fun stuff's higher, asshole." An annoyed voice sounded, drawing Roy from his thoughts. "I can put my pants back on if it freaks you out."

"Sorry. It's fine," Roy shook his head and pulled the blonde closer to him, moving them both closer to the middle of the bed.

Nicolai flopped back onto his back, apparently content to resume from where they had stopped. Roy had no objection, returning his mouth to the warm skin of the other man's shoulder. He gradually moved to suck the skin just behind the blonde's ear, earning a very pleased shiver.

He shifted to hover over the shorter man, straddling his legs but only putting weight on his own knees. He was surprised when the younger's hips pressed upward to meet him, and he gladly lowered one of his hands to close around both of their lengths. The other arm was bearing his weight to the left of Nicolai's head. The blonde was smaller, and he had no desire to crush him.

A pair of lightly freckled arms came up to embrace him, pulling him closer. Nicolai buried his face in the crook of the officer's neck, making various quiet noises in the back of his throat in his attempts to hold them back. He was already quivering, much to Roy's delight.

"Stop holding back," Roy purred into the blonde's ear.

A strangled cry escaped the younger man, and Roy suddenly had a set of teeth biting into his shoulder as warm fluid seeped over his hand. He brought himself off easily afterward while the younger was still reeling, using the other man's seed as lubricant.

The two broke apart after a few seconds, the blonde rolling over onto his side and draping an arm over his eyes. He was out of breath, and Roy found himself smiling down at him. 

"Would you like to use the shower first?" The officer asked, sitting up and rubbing at the bitemark in his shoulder.

"Mm-mm. You go ahead." Said the blonde in a drowsy voice, showing no sign of a will to move at all.


	9. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares, implied rape, panic-induced mild self-harm. I am so sorry.

Edward had not actually expected to _enjoy_ himself. Up until this point, sex had been entirely about pleasing someone he usually didn't even know, and neglecting himself. This encounter had been the exact opposite and he had no idea what to do. He'd actually come first for once, instead of not at all, and it was a surprisingly nice feeling that stuck around for a few minutes.

He listened to the sound of the shower running in another room, waiting for the fuzzy feeling to pass from his skin. It was strange. He wasn't even the slightest bit disgusted, and that made way for foreign emotions. _Euphoria?_ It also rendered him unable to walk for the moment, his natural leg having been reduced to jelly. He had a sinking feeling that this was not how things were meant to go. In the back of his mind, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Of course, it was just second nature for him to expect the worst from people now. He couldn't be caught off guard if something bad happened, and if something went well it could be a pleasant surprise. Of course, the past two days had gone alarmingly easy, considering, and Edward found himself with the strangest urge to cry even though absolutely nothing was wrong.

His eyes wandered over to the bedside table, the unopened condom sitting there accusingly. 

_There's the other shoe,_ he thought darkly, glaring at the foil-wrapped piece of rubber, _I'll probably get herpes or some shit. Fuck._

It would be just the universe's style to throw _that_ at him. His fault for having a good time, he supposed. Of course there was no guarantee that he would contract an STD from the officer, but he'd still have to waste money on getting himself tested. _Again_.

The officer himself didn't actually seem like a threat anymore. There was the issue of where he was getting the money to pay Edward, but then he wasn't sure how much police were paid. Two thousand Cenz in two nights might have been perfectly reasonable, but he doubted it.

The sound of the water ceased, and Roy walked back into the bedroom about two minutes later. He had a small pile of rumpled clothing draped over his arm and a small towel over his head. Other than that, he was still naked.

"I left you some hot water." He stated non-chalantly as he sat down at the foot of the bed and tossed the clothes over to a basket in the corner.

"Thanks," Edward replyied, watching the pale man dry his hair for a few seconds before leaving in search of the bathroom.

Edward locked the door, glad there even was a lock, before removing his leg and clambering into the tub. He used a dry cloth to wipe the inside of the casing as it had gotten sweaty, and laid the leg down on the floor. 

He turned the shower on, and nearly laughed at the joyous fact that there was actually hot water. He'd been living without the luxury of it for a long time, and though cold water no longer bothered him, hot water was indeed a blessing. He washed himself quickly, taking note of the fact that Mustang's shampoo was indeed vanilla scented, and then spent the next few minutes basking in the steam. He was wasting water, but he didn't care.

 

When Edward made his return to the bedroom he noticed his own clothes had been folded and placed on the chest of drawers across from the bed, with his shoes on the floor nearby. Mustang was laying on his back above the bedcovers, no longer naked but only wearing a striped pair of underwear.

"I was starting to think you'd drowned in there." The older man teased, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Edward inored the comment, fished his own underwear from his folded clothes and sat down on the bed so he could put them on, taking the brunette's lead on where to stand as far as status of undress. Once he was covered he laid down beside the officer, but not touching.

"Are you always at that bar?"

"The Devil's Nest? Yeah when things get slow or if I need to hang out somewhere. Why?"

"Just seems like an odd place to just hang out." Roy shifted his eyes from the ceiling to Edward, a glint in his eye. "So the Xingese man isn't your pimp then?"

"Hell no! I don't mess with pimps, they'd just take any money I earn. Plus Ling isn't like that. Greed could be, but I doubt it."

"There are two Xingese men?" 

"I have no idea." Edward allowed himself a small chuckle.

Roy frowned, openly confused about that statement but not questioning it further. He yawned, turning onto his side toward Edward who mirrored the posture. His false leg ended up under the natural one this time, and it wasn't any more comfortable than the other way. He'd wrung out his hair, but it was still soaking into the white pillow he'd rested his head on. Regardless of the wet hair, the officer pulled the younger man closer, draping an arm over his waist and settling his chin on Edward's crown.

Other than the infernal leg, it was relaxing just being held. Edward found himself wondering again why this man felt the need to _buy_ any form of intimacy at all. It was strange, and seemed unecessary given the fact he was attractive and seemed happy to be a gentleman. He'd actually _asked_ if it had been okay to essentially give Edward a handjob and he'd been _concerned_ about his mental state even before that.

After all the things he'd lost and shit he'd had to wade through, was he even allowed this much? He'd hate himself later, but with this man his _headspace_ was unnecessary; 'Nicolai' was not needed. It was completely idiotic, but he'd do this one thing despite his better judgement.

"Edward Elric." He stated quickly, like ripping off a bandage.

"Excuse me?"

"My name..." The blonde paused, taking a deep breath and letting it go. "It's Ed. I just don't like giving it out to everyone."

 

 

It was the strangest feeling to be suddenly trusted with a name. Ordinarily, names were given freely at first meetings regardless of what was going on and nothing was special about it. Yet now, holding a smaller man with damp hair that had curled into his touch so hungrily after he'd been given the invitation, the allowance of a real name was the most intimate Roy had ever felt.

"Why share your name with _me_?" He felt the need to ask.

Nic-No, Edward, just shook his head and pressed his forehead closer to Roy's throat.

That was perfectly fine, as he hadn't expected an answer there anyway. He shifted to pull the sheets over their intwined bodies and pulled Edward's natural leg to rest between his own. The metallic one stayed where Edward had let it lay, responding when the blonde moved his thigh. 

"Isn't that uncomforable? Why not take the leg off and sleep?" Roy suggested, hoping the limb wasn't as painful as it looked.

"Why don't _you_ take off your own leg?" Edward countered, regaining his previous playful-but-annoyed tone.

"Point taken."

After that exchange they both fell into a comfortable silence, and Roy fell asleep easily. Sleep came much more easily with warmth to latch onto, rest was calmer than it was when he slept alone. 

He was awoken two hours before his alarm was set by movement and the sound of crying. Edward had sat up, hugging his legs to his chest. He was _sobbing_ but it was apparent that he was trying to be quiet despite the fact he was so obviously devastated.

"Edward? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing. It's....It's nothing, I'll be fine. J-just go back to sleep." Edward stammered between shaky breaths.

 

 

_Edward was ten, Alphonse nine. The house was in flames. Ed couldn't find Al and the smoke was already choking him. He wasn't sure what had happened, other than that something had exploded. He suspected gas leak. That seemed plausible at least. Mom had warned about those. He found Al, scared and crying on the floor of their mother's room._

_"Al! Come on move, we need to get out!"_

_"Mom won't move!" And Edward noticed their mother was indeed crumpled on the floor._

_"Mom? Mom!" Edward called, recieving no answer, "Grab her arms, we'll drag her outside."_

_Edward grabbed his mother's ankles as Al did as he was told. The woman was heavy, but they made due. Edward made absolutely **sure** that Alphonse got out first. He was glad he did, because just as his brother and mother were clear, the frame of the front door caved in. His leg was shattered. _

_Edward was fifteen, Alphonse was fourteen. Edward had gotten used to his new leg, though it still hurt to walk or stand for too long. They had both fled to Dublith when the threat of separation in an orphanage was explained, and nobody had cared enough to look for them. Scrounging was easy, as so many people were happy to throw perfectly good things away. They never outright stole, aware Edward's leg would slow down any attempts to run._

_Of course, the streets were dangerous. Edward hadn't even been sure what had happened, but there were some people who they'd managed to accidentally piss off by being in the wrong back streets. He'd been whacked with a mechete of all things, and blacked out. He woke up to the sight of his brother on his back, a halo of blood around his head._

_They were both taken to the hospital by an ambulance after a stranger had found them. Alphonse never woke up. Edward didn't speak for over a month._

_There was no insurance and the hospital would only take care of Al for so long until they demanded payment. Edward would get that payment for his brother no matter what._

_A man in a white suit and hat, black hair drawn into a ponytail, had told him he was 'a pretty one'. with clear, awful intentions. The man's entire presence scared him, but it was an opprotunity and so he told the man he wouldn't fight if he was paid. He'd kept his word, and it disgusted him. That first time, he'd earned fifty Cenz. It was barely a dent, but all of it went to Al._

Every now and then, in the void between sleep and waking, Edward could feel the intruding hands. He would wake crying. Sometimes, he would throw up. The first time he had sold himself had never left him. It had just never been as bad as it had been with the man with the white hat. He was somewhat grateful that none had been as bad, and disgusted with himself that that was a cause for him to be grateful.

And here with him was a police officer that he _should not_ have fallen asleep around. This was not okay. He should have taken a nap at some point to prevent this. He wasn't supposed to fall asleep. He was bothering someone who had shown him nothing but kindness and _this was not okay._

"Edward! Stop it." A stern voice ordered, and Edward only realized then that he'd been digging his nails into his stomach.

"I'm sorry." He moved his hands to hide his face and moved to leave the bed, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, just over the scar.

"Stay," Roy told him, voice dropping into a concerned tone. "It's okay. Please."


	10. Let's Make a Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author is a dick to Eds *ding*  
> Also Greed writes himself. I can't control him.

At first Roy thought he was the cause of distress, but once his mind caught up to him he realized Edward probably would not have waited this long to have a breakdown. Or, he would have waited longer when he was already in his own home. This was something else entirely.

Roy wasn't sure what to do other than keep the younger man from leaving, like he had seemingly planned to. He didn't look like he needed to be alone, if the scratching was anything to go by. It was destructive, but he supposed the scars on his stomach were explained now. He hadn't broken skin this time but the scarring suggested he had before. 

To make the situation even more worrying, Edward had _apologized_. Whether it was for the scratching, waking Roy up, both, or something entirely different the brunette couldn't be sure. It was worrisome, but at least the smaller blonde had listened when the request for him to stay had been stated.

Roy straightened up, moving to sit cross-legged, and pulled the younger to sit in his lap, back to chest. Edward was still crying quietly, but it had lessened now. Despite the fact he seemed to be calming down, Roy could feel a tremor running through his back.

"What happened?" Mustang asked again after a few minutes passed.

"I told you it's nothing... Just leave it alone." 

"Fine." Roy sighed, curling his arms limply around Edward but making sure the blonde had plenty of room to leave the embrace if he wanted.

The will to leave was apparently gone, as Edward made no effort to move again. He also made no noise, and Roy wondered for a few moments if he had closed himself off again. It made him nervous, and he was forced to remember quite suddenly that Edward was not someone who was intimate with him by choice. He was here because Roy was paying him to be.

Roy could be the most giving host, and Edward would still only be as close as he was paid to be. There was the very large possibility that Edward hadn't left the bed entirely because he'd been told not to, and that the officer was keeping him against his will. Asking him to stay may have just sounded like an order.

_Is this hurting him?_

Roy was an ambitious man. He would admit that whole-heartedly, perfectly aware of the fact and not at all ashamed of it. That said, he didn't _like_ causing unnecessary pain. He liked to think he wasn't a bad person.

"Edward?" He asked, and was pleasantly surprised to get a quick, clear response.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Not for me at least."

A short silence passed between them, and Edward pulled away. 

"Why are you being nice to me?" The blonde asked once he'd established a small pocket of space and turned around to face the officer. 

 

Edward, throughout his hardships only remembered one clear face in the sea of faceless people he'd serviced. That one face was horrific to him, and given him the shock needed to erase the others. That face was the reason he had his headspace and his headspace was the reason he could blur the others.

Now, after this confusing _mess_ he would remember two faces instead of one. It didn't feel safe. He didn't even want to remember the first face, what was he supposed to do with _two?_ The second face being far too kind. The first bringing up phantom pains.

"Why are you being nice to me?" He'd decided to ask, breaking away from the hold he was in.

Mustang seemed taken aback. Sad, even. He didn't even respond, and Edward felt a spark of anger in his chest. He had to have _some_ reason. It couldn't just be for nothing. No one in their right mind would spend so much for nearly nothing.

"I'm a hooker. I'm used to doing shit I don't want to do! Why should you be different?" He demanded, voice displaying a carnal rage.

Mustang flinched visibly, having not expected the sudden outburst. Still, he offered up no answer and looked more thoughtful and collected than Edward felt he had any right to be. The heat of anger faded into a heavy irritation, and the smaller man lowered his voice.

"What's different? You're wasting your money, what do you _want?_ " He asked, and Mustang sighed.

"I don't know." He admitted, then slid off the bed and left the room.

Edward was left in silence for a few minutes, wondering what the hell he had just done. He wasn't supposed to yell at a client. That was a rule somewhere, probably. 'Customer's always right so don't bitch about it until you get paid.' Yeah that was it. Even worse, he'd shouted at the first and only genuinely nice client he'd ever had. Adjusting to a completely new experience was not his strong suit, and his first instinct was to fight it.

Even though what he was fighting seemed like a good thing.

The officer returned, tossing the money he owed onto the bed. "Leave when you want. I'd have to be up soon anyway. I apologize if I hurt you in some way, it was not my intention."

"You didn't..." _...and somehow that's the problem._

The officer's eyes had darkened, scanning Edward's own gold with a neutral expression. "Good."

 

After both had dressed and left to go on about their own personal lives, Roy did not look to purchase Edward again for a few weeks. He honestly had his hands full trying to keep Hughes in check. Pictures of his friend's pregnant wife littered the office and while it was sweet, Mustang also felt that it was too much of a good thing.

Kimblee had also been taken out of custody to go free and Mustang suspected a bribe had been established for that to happen. Apparently arson was perfectly acceptable behavior if you were rich off your ass. If Roy ever managed to become Chief of Police, he would put an end to that state of mind the first chance he got. The irony was not lost on him when he 'accidentally' shredded a search warrant for The Devil's Nest.

"Okay Roy, talk to me. You've been distracted." Maes said in one of his rare moments of seriousness.

"I'm fine Maes. Just tired." Roy told him, trying to brush it off.

"Noooo~ I've seen you tired and there's more to this." Maes pushed up his glasses absently, kicking off the floor to roll his chair closer to his partner's desk. "What happened?"

Roy sighed, turning in his chair and leaning back. "I think I did something really stupid."

Maes was quiet, waiting for him to go on for a few seconds before realizing he wouldn't without prompt. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"No."

"If I guess, will you tell me?"

"No."

"You got into drugs?"

"No." 

"You slept with someone's wife."

"No."

"Husband then?"

"No."

"You got a dog and didn't think about the responsibility?"

"No, that's silly."

"You got into street fighting?"

"No."

"Did you finally enter a committed relationship? Because I've got a bet going with Jean."

"You guys are betting on me?"

"You didn't say no!"

"Didn't say yes either, now shut up. I'm fine."

"Fiiiine. You're no fun." Hughes then rolled his chair back to his own desk, reading his own papers and marking a few things down.

 

Edward's own life had gone back to relative normal. Izumi had finally fired Sheska for not working properly and Edward was sorry for that, but glad it hadn't been him. Al was being taken care of still, as Edward continued both his job at the library and selling himself to nameless and faceless people. His showers were cold. His muscles were constantly sore. 

Really, only one thing had changed. He kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to run the risk of learning another face. His headspace was still put into effect, but rather than let his eyes empty or glaze over he just didn't open them until it was over. Nobody seemed to mind, and for Edward, things were much easier.

He still frequented The Devil's Nest, and on a Friday, Greed pointed out that he was spending even more time there than he previously had.

"It's funny. You come in here every day now, but you don't leave with anyone any more." He'd called Edward out on it casually, but there was a curious, accusing undertone.

"Ling gets pissy when I hook in here. You know that." Edward retorted, stirring the straw in his soda.

"Never stopped you before. It's like you're waiting for someone specific." Greed teased, swiping his hand to flick Edward's braided hair.

"Hey, if somebody asks I'll go with them but I'm not going to actively look in here anymore."

"Good to know." Greed shrugged, but there was a predatory glint to his eye. "So, Dorochet and Paninya are going to spar later. Who're you betting on?"

"Dodge, pin, or weapons?"

"Dodge."

"Paninya. Here," Edward began to lift his leg to get to his boot, but Greed shook his head.

"No, I don't want your money. Different wager this time."

Edward sent Greed a warning look, but inclined his head to display that he was listening. He let his false foot fall, both curious and dreading the wager.

"If Dorochet wins, I'll pay you to let him fuck you."

Edwards mouth ran dry, but he nodded thoughtfully. "And if Paninya wins?"

"I'll pay you double for absolutely nothing."

"Why are you making this deal and does Dorochet know? You know I don't sell to friends."

"He knows. He likes your ass and I like to watch. You'd be performing in the back room."

Edward was honestly appalled at that. He felt pretty safe in his bet that Paninya would win, as she was fast and nearly uncatchable when she put her mind to it. Dorochet was fast too, but out of his element without at least a knife. If he was right and odds were in his favor, he'd have one thousand Cenz without having to degrade himself for it. _But if he lost..._

Of course, he was getting _some_ money no matter who won the spar, just twice as much if his educated guess was right. Either way, if he agreed he would gain something.

"Fine." He said quickly once he'd thought it over, and Greed looked far too happy about it.

"Great! Fight starts in about ten minutes. You go ahead and get a proper seat." With that, the Xingese man nudged the blonde toward the back door.

Edward entered the spacious room. It was lit in dim red with no windows. A white ring was drawn into the floor, rendered pink by the shaded lights. At the back wall was a large, lone plush chair in front of a wine rack. Around the circle was a plethora of bean bag chairs, with the real chairs and tables being shoved aside to the other three walls. The entire room had a sharp, nearly suffocating scent. Edward didn't like the smell, but he'd never bought into any drugs. The front room was just a simple bar, this was the room it was named for.

He noticed Dorochet was already present, dusting off the tables. He glanced up as he noticed Edward enter, and raised a hand to wave to him. If asked, Edward would deny the fact he had shuddered.


	11. It's a Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore, it just happened.

Edward picked a corner table, out of the way but still having a clear line of sight to the circle in the floor. Dorochet was already here, and a few others had begun to file in from the front. Paninya and Greed, however, were gone from the area. Greed was still in the bar, he knew, but he hadn't seen Paninya yet.

Usually, before a scheduled spar, the two competing would meet in the ring and have a practice run before the official one to warm up. Dorochet was _cleaning_ and Paninya wasn't even _here._ There was something off about it, but Edward supposed she could have just been running late. 

The back room filled quickly enough, with the last to enter being Paninya on the arm of Greed. The latter of which looked far too smug and Edward had a sinking feeling. It was not helped by the fact Paninya seemed to be emotionally weighed down by something.

Greed broke from the dark woman, allowing her to make her way to the circle where Dorochet would meet her. The Xingese man made his way to the lone chair, known by regulars as 'the throne of the Two Faced King', and lounged in it sideways. One leg was thrown over the arm of the chair, the other on the floor. Both arms were folded against his chest. 

"Roa," He called, and the hulking man in question lumbered over. "Be a dear and make sure our _guest_ knows where he needs to be when he gets here."

 

 

Friday morning, Roy bumped into a stranger as he was leaving his car in front of the police station. It was a woman with dark skin, black hair braided and tied back. He apologized for bumping into her, she apologized as well, and he did not think of the encounter again. 

Around five in the afternoon, just as he was getting ready to leave, the phone on his desk rang. He picked it up, tired but never one to ignore a call for help if that is what the call was for. It was not. Instead a familiar, but not quite placeable voice was on the other line.

_"Oh good. You're still at work."_

"Who is this? What's the problem?"

_"It's really your problem, not mine. Have you checked your pockets today? Specifically the left pocket of your coat, I think."_

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed. "Look, if this is a prank-"

_"No prank. I had a friend take something. She has such light fingers, you see."_

Roy frowned, but checked his pocket anyway. Sure enough, the feeling of folded leather was missing. His wallet was gone. Suddenly, he remembered the darker woman and nearly growled.

"Alright, what do you want? You wouldn't have called if you just wanted money."

_"Money? Oh, no. I hadn't even thought to take that. Your wallet is safe at The Devil's Nest. All I want is for you to come talk to me, by yourself. Besides, there's a blonde kid here asking to see you and he looks a little fucked up. Well, bye then!"_

_Click._

Roy lowered the phone back to its resting place, contemplating throwing it across the room. He'd heard of criminals setting traps similar to this but to his knowledge it never actually happened. It was idiotic, and even worse he was buying into it. He was thankful Hughes had already gone home, otherwise going alone wouldn't have been an option.

 

 

The first half of the spar was perfectly normal, and actually looked to be promising. Dorochet had made a really good effort to get a hit in, but Paninya danced around him, easily evading every attack. It had gone on for nearly fifteen minutes when Paninya suddenly _slowed down_.

Paninya spun away from Dorochet, cutting it close to the edge of the circle but not crossing the line. Dorochet continued, fisting his hand and bringing it harshly down in a wide arc toward the woman. She moved, but far too late and not nearly enough. Dorochet's hand connected her with her shoulder.

The silence of the wide room gave way to applause, and a few groans of disappointment. Paninya had lost, Dorochet had won, and Edward felt sick. Not so sick that he would vomit here, but that he might vomit once he'd left. He glared over to Greed who shrugged and winked at him, and he was struck with an urge to attempt murder.

This fight had been rigged. It was obvious now. 

_So stupid,_

 

 

Roy made his way to his car, putting his barely bridled rage into the task of driving. He'd had the presence of mind to remember to remove his coat and overshirt, but he kept his gun and holster attached to the right side of his belt. He didn't like guns much, but he felt it to be a possible asset in this solo mission.

He arrived to the seedy bar in a seething rage, though to an onlooker he would have seemed vaguely annoyed. The front was oddly empty for a bar on Friday, but he could hear a muffled uproar going on nearby. 

"Sounds like you're just in time." A large man rumbled, voice low. "Go on in, see the show. You're expected."

The man shuffled away from the door he'd been apparently guarding. Roy did not have to be invited again, barging right into the darkened room. The first thing he noticed was the smell, and the suspicion of a drug den was confirmed. He then noticed the crowd. They were cheering something on, but he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the low-light before he could figure out what.

A table had been placed in the center of the room, acting as a makeshift stage. Two people were currently using it as a prop for what seemed to be very heated sex. They were both mostly clothed, pants only lowered enough for what they were doing. The dominant participant had his hand fisted in the other's light hair, holding his head down which in turn hid his face.

The receiving partner had a hand on himself, the other gripping the edge of the table. He made a low sound, and Roy did not need to see any more. He knew the voice, and could recognize the hair no matter how messy or badly lit.

_Edward._

 

 

Dorochet was one to brag on victory. Everyone who knew him knew this. So, when he made a beeline for Edward and dragged both him and a _table_ toward the sparring circle, very few were surprised. Sex in the back room was not uncommon. This was just one of the few times it would be the center of attention. 

"Hey Nic. No backsies." Greed called, holding up a money clip.

Edward could have killed the grinning bastard, but that would in turn kill Ling who actually tried to watch out for him most of the time. With nearly no warning, Edward was forcefully shoved to bend over the table. He was hyperaware of the man behind him, leaning over him and grinding against his ass. He was also aware of the very strange fact that Dorochet seemed to be entirely flacid.

"Hey, listen. Don't do that freaky numb thing, I'm not sticking anything in your ass." Dorochet whispered, having leaned forward enough to lay across Edward's back.

"What the hell? What's going on?"

"Did you forget I'm straight or something? Look, we need to make this look good. Jack yourself off, just don't finish."

Edward was confused, and made no effort to move either of his hands. Dorochet sighed audibly. 

"Just do it. If you need help, I don't know, think about your pretty cop or something."

Edward was officially confused, but decided he'd play along. It wasn't the worst he'd done for money, but it was certainly awkward. It felt like he was in the middle of a bad joke. It was made even more awkward when Dorochet pulled down Edward's pants enough to be believable and actually started moving. 

He could tell Dorochet's fly was open, but his underwear had stayed on. It may have looked like rough rutting from those who were in the right angle from the table, but to Edward it was painfully obvious that nothing was actually happening. Relieved though he was, he was also annoyed.

Deciding he'd been sucked into this strange, unpleasant situation for a reason, he did exactly as he had been told. He ignored the hand holding him down by his hair, the completely limp shaft pressed against him through fabric, and the fact he was in the middle of a crowded room. He moved his left hand to touch himself, and if he thought of Mustang, he supposed only Dorochet would know.

 

 

If Roy had been in a rage before, he was royally _pissed_ now. A worrying pang of a mixture of jealousy and posessiveness flowed through him, concentrating at the base of his diaphram. 

Granted, he'd been aware of Edward's work. He could have easily guessed at the details. Actually seeing it, however, was an entirely different matter. Though he had known, it hadn't been real to him until this moment.

"Dorochet, you can stop." The Xingese man called above the cheering, and the brute released Edward, backing off with his hands up.

He wore a wolfish grin, and Roy noticed that though his pants were undone, there was no way he'd actually been doing anything other than acting. Edward, on the other hand, looked wrecked. Strangely it was not at all in the bad way.

"I think," The Xingese man began, pausing to let the room quiet down before continuing. "I think this one would rather have _you,_ Officer."

Hearing that, Edward looked up. Shame and fear were clearly written on his face as his gold eyes found Roy. The officer realized then that he and Edward had both been played. And he wasn't even sure if it was even a bad thing yet. He could walk out now, that would be the smart thing. Leave this deviant space and forget it existed, as well as all of those within it. Or, he could do what he felt he needed to do. 

He began to walk forward, straight up to the man in the overly large chair. He passed Edward on the way, as the younger man hadn't left his position on the table. He had stilled his hand though, and Roy was grateful for that.

"I want my wallet back. Then, I'm taking _him_ home." He stated sternly.

"Be my guest." Said the bar owner, taking the folded leather from his own back pocket and tossing it over. "Consider this a gift."

Roy opened his wallet to make sure nothing was stolen, and was surprised to find money had actually been _added_. Seven thousand Cenz, all in large bills. Enough to have Edward with him for a weekful of nights. His brow knitted together in confusion, and he looked back up at the man who'd given him the money. The man crooked his finger, bidding him to come closer. Something in his expression seemed to change slightly, from a cruel smirk to a warm grin.

"Maybe you can get his ass out of whatever debt makes him think he has to sell it." His tone was even lighter as he spoke this time.

 

 

Edward, a bit dazed, hardly noticed he was in a car until it was time to get _out_ of the car. He'd been told not to finish, so he hadn't. He'd even stopped entirely the second he knew Mustang could see him, which had him in pain. So now, he was once again on the way to his own apartment to gather his things because Mustang wanted him for an entire week and even paid him _in advance_. So far the only rule he'd been given was to communicate what he wanted or didn't want. Even though that was a simple rule, he wasn't sure if it would be so easy in practice.


	12. Putting Pieces Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part where Roy learns some stuff and Ed has to do a thing. Also slight feels. Tiny warning for stump, Ed _is_ an amputee, after all.
> 
> Author totally had no idea it was Roy/Ed week. The timing of the week Ed gets to spend with Roy in this work is a happy accident.

Though externally calm as ever, Roy was completely lost on what he was supposed to do now. He was now going to be housing a prostitute for an entire week. An expensive prostitute he now knew lived in squalor despite the fact he had alluded to a day job as well as the previously stated one.

Upon arrival to the apartment complex, located in the little talked about ghetto of Dublith, Roy noticed a foul scent emanating from the grooves adjacent to the road. Refuse and rotted food littered the ground. Edward seemed not to notice as he trudged to the far left door on the first floor. He had no need to search for his keys, as he apparently left the door unlocked.

"Nothing much to take, except Al's book." The younger explained when asked about the lack of lock.

"Al is your roommate?" Roy asked, finding himself curious.

"Brother." Edward replied stiffly, taking a thick paperback out from a cabinet under the cracked kitchenette counter. 

The book had a library stamp across the front and a torn strip of newspaper between its pages, showing over half of it had been read through. Edward gathered a satchel from his room and placed the book in the bottom, piling a few changes of clothes over it. Roy nearly asked why he was taking his brother's book when it obviously wasn't finished, but decided against.

Edward's room was home to a small mattress on the floor, barely covered by a threadbare sheet. A rough blanket had been nailed over the lonely window in place of a curtain, and the browning, decaying wallpaper was peeling away. Roy hadn't seen a door to any other room save for a bathroom, and he wondered if Edward and his brother shared the one mattress. Again, he thought it best not to ask for the moment. Edward seemed to be in a negative mood and could probably do without his prying.

"Before we go back to your house I need to make a stop at the drug store and the hospital." Edward stated, tone leaving no room for argument as he slung the satchel over his shoulder and headed back to the car.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just need to talk to Mrs. Hughes and get more condoms. Nearly out." Edward sniffed absently, then began to braid his hair to occupy his hands.

_Hughes..._

He knew from Maes that Gracia was a neurologist, and this new information worried him. Edward said he was fine, and he looked healthy enough as far as Roy could tell. He would call a friend by their first name, so he doubted it was just friendly visitation. This meant _something_ had to be wrong, but what?

"Don't worry about the condoms. I should have enough."

 

 

Edward usually wasn't one to share his personal life with a client. Then again, he'd never spent a week with one. Again, he'd been thrown into new territory, and it was _all Greed's fault._ Of course, it was also Edward's fault for apparently having pined too obviously without realizing. He would never admit it, though.

At least Mustang hadn't tried getting him to speak further about his brother or the needed hospital visit. He wasn't going to spill his guts to anyone, even if they weren't total strangers anymore. He barely vented to even his closest friends. Even Winry, who knew of Al's condition, had no idea what he was doing about it and it would stay that way if he had any control over it.

When they arrived at the hospital, Edward hoped Mustang would stay in the car and wait. He didn't, and Edward wanted to kick him because he was pretty sure he only joined him into the sterile building purely to snoop. He was only partially proven wrong when Mustang greeted the doctor as a friend. 

"Gracia, it's good to see you in person again after being smothered in photos. How are you holding up?" The officer asked suavely before Edward even had a chance to speak.

"I'm fine, Maes just likes to exaggerates. And you?" She replied, waving a hand dismissively. 

She noticed Edward a second later and a line of worry creased her brow as her eyes shifted between the two men. Edward could tell the exact moment she figured out what was going on. She always had been a very perceptive woman. Thankfully she was also very discrete, and the blonde released the breath he'd been holding as her voice showed none of the concern she no doubt had.

"Hello Ed! Are you dropping something off? Visiting hours are over but I could still let you have a second."

"Dropping off. I don't think I have time for anything else." He knelt to take the nearly obscene amount of cash from his boot, only keeping one thousand Cenz to pay for his own necessities and handing over the other six thousand with no hesitation.

From the corner of his eye, he could tell the officer was thinking very hard on this exchange. It was irritating, but expected. Gracia gasped audibly as she counted the bills. 

"Oh my! That's quite a lot, isn't it?" She said, tucking the money into an envelope and pocketing it.

Deciding Mustang would figure it out sooner or later, he shrugged and sighed. "Only the best for my little brother."

 

 

"Will he recover?" Roy asked once they'd returned to the car, which stayed in park for this conversation.

"Yes." Edward spat, too quickly and harshly, like he couldn't afford to believe otherwise.

"How bad is he?"

Edward stayed silent for a while, glaring pointedly out the window. He refused to look the officer's way and when he did speak again it was barely above a whisper. Roy almost thought he'd imagined the answer if not for the fact he had seen Edward's lips move in the reflection of the glass.

"He won't wake up..."

Roy frowned and started the car, empathetic with the blonde in the passenger's seat. As usual, the ride was mostly silent until they pulled into the driveway of the brunette's house.

"I'm sorry," Roy said in a somber tone.

Before Edward could react, he took the satchel from the younger man's lap with the intention of carrying it in for him. He placed it on the kitchen table, his thoughts flashing briefly to how Edward had looked splayed over the table in The Devil's Nest before reminding himself there was a time and a place. His home may have been a perfectly reasonable place, but this was definitely _not_ the the time.

Edward meanwhile had passed through the kitchen to make himself at home in the living room, lounging on Roy's light creme coloured couch with his feet up and ankles crossed. Roy would not have minded at all if not for the fact that Edward had not removed his boots. The bottom of which had what seemed to be a year's worth of dried mud caked onto them.

"I'd prefer the couch to stay clean." Roy deadpanned, and Edward huffed.

"I would have _preferred_ you stay in the car at the hospital." Edward retorted, but he did kick off his boots and brushed off the dirt that had fallen onto the pale fabric. "There. No harm done. If you don't mind, I'd like to sleep here tonight."

The living room was simple. An off white couch rested at one wall, perpendicular to a chair of the same color. A large bookshelf stood at the opposite wall, with a low, but long coffee table at the center that was covered by a mint green cloth. The cloth was set to show the table's wooden corners and hang off the sides. On it sat a glass chess set. The carpet was blue, the walls a light, grayish lavender. 

Edward in all his raw, wild, and eccentric glory should not have fit into the picture. And yet, somehow, Roy thought his living room would look incomplete without the younger man in it.

"If you sleep there I suppose I'll just have to rest in the chair." Roy threatened, though he kept his voice light.

Edward groaned, "I'm here the whole week right? I have to sleep at some point which means I'll end up waking you. Besides, I'm not sleeping with my leg on again and I doubt you want to see that."

Roy chuckled and gestured with his hand for Edward to go right ahead and do what he needed. "Try me. Just for tonight, then you can decide whether or not you still want to sleep in here or with me."

"Bastard..."

"Shrimp."

"Fuck off!"

And Roy could only laugh.

 

 

Edward followed Mustang into the now too-familiar room and stripped down to his boxers. He sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for the brunette to reach a similar state of undress before he took a deep breath and began to unlatch the straps that held the casing around his thigh together. His fingers fumbled, desperately wishing for the taller man to change his mind. The change never came, and Edward held his breath as the prosthetic came free. 

Blood rushed back into the stump of his thigh, bringing the sensation of burning pins and needles. He'd worn the leg for far too long and he was feeling the consequences as he pressed his fingers into the scarred flesh to speed up the process of re-circulation.

Edward had expected disgust, or at least _some_ reaction, but was only met with an intense, curious gaze directed at the lack of most of his left ambulatory appendage. He supposed this should have been foreseen, as the officer had built a reputation in Edward's mind for being surprising.

"Does it hurt?" Mustang asked, once Edward had finished restoring blood flow to the stump.

"Sometimes, in bad weather. Every now and then my foot itches." Edward answered, wiggling the stump as he spoke to emphasize his annoyance at the fact.

"The foot that's missing?"

"Yeah. It's called phantom sensation, I think."

A tense moment of silence passed before the stunted conversation continued.

"That's interesting." Mustang finally said, eyebrows lifting.

"I hate it. Can't scratch what you don't have anymore." Edward chuckled, and adjusted the pillow behind him. "I'm going to sleep now."

"Good night."

"Yeah..."

Edward then laid down on his right side, not at all surprised when the officer sidled up behind him and draped an arm over his middle. Surprisingly, this was okay. It was actually entirely comfortable without the false leg pinching and weighing on him. He drifted off more easily than he had in a while and if he had an unpleasant dream, he did not remember it. 

Something was different, and it all had to do with the cop whose heart he could feel beating strongly against his back. A flutter touched his own heart, and he tried his best to tell himself he hadn't felt it.


	13. Well This is Awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author almost wasn't able to post today but retains his streak of at _least_ one chapter a day. All hail the king!  
>  Okay now stop hailing the king, it's making me nervous.
> 
> Also guess who's in this chapter?

Saturday mornings were usually a peaceful time to sleep in, as long as you were a deep enough sleeper to ignore the piercing twittering of birdsong. Edward was a deep sleeper, but he was also used to being awake very early and weekends were no exception. He would have gotten out of the bed already if not for the brunette currently pinning his long hair under his side. There was also a not-at-all-unexpected lump poking against the base of his spine.

_Good morning, officer._ He thought sardonically, and began trying to angle himself away without pulling his hair or waking his bed-mate.

The latter mission was quickly proved impossible when the movement woke Mustang, who thankfully rolled off of the unwinding braid. The brunette rubbed his hands roughly over his face and sat up, letting his legs swing over the side of the bed to meet the carpet.

"Good morning," He slurred, then released a wide yawn. "Are you hungry?"

Edward returned the greeting and also sat up, glad that the officer seemed to be ignoring his early erection for the moment. "Yeah, food would be nice."

He scooted himself closer to the edge of his side of the bed, and used his natural foot to hook under the knee of his prosthetic that lay on the floor. With the height of the bed, he knew he would barely be able to reach it with his hands. The artificial leg, however, decided to be uncooperative and slid off his foot to roll further away. Try as he might, Edward would never be able to reach it now unless he crawled down to the floor.

"Fucking glorified _peg._ " He muttered, angry at the false leg even though, rationally, he knew the steel appendage was incapable of spite.

"Excuse me?" Mustang coughed, before he noticed what Edward was trying to do. "Oh, here. Let me-"

"I don't need help!" Edward interrupted harshly, and gracelessly plopped himself right onto the carpet even though it was the least dignified thing he could have done. "It's been years, I think I can handle my own damn leg."

 

 

Roy watched as the small blonde man practically threw himself at the floor and began reconnecting stump to leg. He made no further move to assist Edward, but he did allow himself one less than kind remark in retaliation.

"Do you yell at everyone that tries to help you? That must get quite lonely." And with that comment in the open, he began to dress himself.

Edward only huffed indignantly and muttered under his breath as he tried to align his leg correctly. Roy wondered if it was easier in a sitting position, with a bent knee as opposed to a straight one, but knew better than to ask. Edward's foul mood had returned and the wrong questions were likely to start the blonde up with screaming.

Today, Roy would leave his Police blue for a long sleeved, green cotton shirt. His pants were a faded denim and he left his shoes off for now. By the time he was fully dressed he noticed Edward had finally stopped the apparent argument with his leg and had begun using the edge of the bed to drag himself into a standing position. Evidently getting up from the floor was not a strength for the smaller man. 

Before he could even begin to make his way to the kitchen, the phone upstairs began to ring. He sighed, and headed out of his room toward the stairs which were adjacent to the bathroom.

The second floor of the house was for the most part dedicated to the days Roy had to take his work home with him. There was a den, a guest bedroom with a desk he hardly ever used, and a spacious den lined with bookshelves that held various tomes of psychology, law, and criminal statistics. There were also folders on many old cases that helped him know what to do with new ones.

He had a map set up along one wall of the den, covered in pins and color coded yarn to track a couple serial cases, Kimblee being one of them (The red string.) much to his annoyance. Especially after his unjustified release.

The phone hung on the wall right next to this map, and it's insistent ringing was already becoming a mild annoyance. He picked it up and held it to his ear.

"Hel-"

_"Yo Roy! Cancel any lunch plans you had because you're eating with us today! It can be a double date, I know you have someone over."_

"Maes? What on earth...?" Roy turned just enough to view the clock on top of the closest bookcase.

It was already almost half eleven. Roy groaned.

_"Don't even try to deny you met someone. Gracia told me all about you coming into the hospital with your new boyfriend to provide emotional support! Havoc owes me ten Cenz now so thank you for that."_

_"I never said that much!"_ Gracia's voice chimed indignantly in the background, and Roy smirked in spite of himself as Hughes continued with his gushing as if he hadn't heard.

_"I never knew you could be so sweet. You're always such a hard-ass."_

"Thank you, Maes, but-"

_"Isn't he a bit young for you though? I mean I'm not judging, just curious."_

"Thank you for your concern, Maes. It's fine though, not long term. I met him in a bar anyway so he's old enough."

_"Cradle robber,"_

"Goodbye, Maes."

_"I'll pick you two up in a few minutes!"_

"Wait!"

_Click_

People seemed to be hanging up on Roy a lot recently, he noted, and trudged back down the stairs. Edward was in the kitchen now, still in his underwear and raiding the refrigerator.

"Get dressed. Something decent, we're eating out." The officer called, and Edward snorted humorously.

"Yeah I bet we are," Came the dry response, and Roy rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so crude in public, please." He reminded, hoping Edward would behave himself but strongly doubting it.

The younger man was vastly unpredictable, he'd noticed.

 

 

Edward had dressed himself in an outfit similar to the one Roy had first picked him up in. In fact, the coat and pants were the very same, but the coat was actually on his shoulders this time. He wore a dark purple tee under the coat, and though it did not match at all, he still wasn't quite clashing. Edward's style was definitely all his own. Of course, part of the reason his clothing was often out of place is because of the fact he usually had to stand out in someway and only bought clothes that were suited for it.

He took out his braid, finger-brushed through his hair, and re-braided his hair quickly, pulling the ribbon tight at the end just as a knock sounded at the door. He stared at the door blankly, unsure whether to hide himself, answer it, or ignore it entirely. The need to make a decision was void as the officer passed him to open it.

He recognized Mrs. Hughes, and offered her a small wave just before a tall man in glasses barreled into the room and straight toward him. He spared a questioning glance to both Mustang and Mrs. Hughes, the former seemed annoyed and the latter hid her quiet laughter with a hand. Edward only resisted the urge of fight or flight because the other two did not seem to feel threatened in the slightest.

"So you're the one who's going to make an honest man out of Roy, are you? Finally! Do you know how long I've been telling him to settle down?"

"Erm... I'm not-"

"Oh! I almost forgot!" And suddenly a set of black and white pictures of a fetus was blocking most of Edward's vision. "She's a little girl! Just look at her, isn't she adorable?"

"Congratulations? I'm sorry, who-?"

"Maes Hughes, it's nice to meet you! You're Ed right?"

And now it made _some_ sense. This man was now obviously Mrs. Hughes husband but why on earth were the Hughes' even _here?_

Mustang cleared his throat and dragged the flamboyantly cheerful man backward by his coat collar, and Edward was grateful for the restoration of his personal space.

"Edward his is my partner from work and I believe you already know Gracia. We are having lunch with them today against our will." Mustang stated much to formally.

Edward raised a brow at the negative comment thrown almost under the radar. Assessing the situation quickly, he shrugged. He was going to lunch with two cops and his brother's doctor and with how his life had been going it could only get stranger from here. All he really could do for the time being was play it off casually until everything was over. Gracia knew the truth but Hughes seemed to be under the impression that Edward was Mustang's lover or something and he supposed it would be an easy enough part to play.

"As long as it's not Xingese. I'm a bit sick of that." He deadpanned, but smiled when he noticed a glint in Mustang's eye that signaled he had caught the joke.

"Oh no, more in the mood for Cretan anyway." Gracia said, no doubt knowing her husband would support her vote.

Mustang released a sigh through his nose and reluctantly agreed. "Fine but you're paying Maes."

"Fine by me. Everyone to my car!"

The Hughes' took the front seats while Edward and Mustang took the back, to which Mr. Hughes felt the need to set a rule for no wandering hands in his car. Edward was deeply amused. Roy looked almost irritated. _Almost._


	14. Mixed Signals and Misbehavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit short. Sorry. I've gotten busy and had to break my streak, so that sucks. 
> 
> Anyway, Author is a total cockblock because reasons.

Roy was in hell. He bought a hooker and now he is in hell and this is his punishment, he was sure. 

Edward had set his mind to keeping his mouth full of food at all times, causing Roy to worry about how someone so small could put away so much, but also thankfully giving himself an excuse to not speak. It was hard to answer questions with a mouth that was constantly full of spicy bear stew. This made it much less difficult for Roy to answer the majority of the friendly interrogation with what was _mostly_ the truth.

They _had_ met in a bar and later set up by one of Edward's 'friends'(If he could even be called that after the stunt he orchestrated.). Details were left out, of course, but that was the base of the cover story that was apparently needed. 

"Dammit Roy, let your boyfriend talk!" Hughes eventually commanded, flicking a lentil which stuck humorously to Roy's forehead for a second before sliding down his face onto his shirt. "So, Ed. Where do you work?"

Roy wiped his face with a napkin, sending his friend a dull glare but shutting up for the moment. Edward, however, had to stop himself from choking on his own laughter at Roy's expense. The blonde apparently hadn't noticed his own napkin as he raked the back of his hand over his mouth and _licked his fingers_ , having very little regard for dignity, table manners, or Roy's apparently oddly selective libido.

"The library, but I do odd jobs on the side." He explained, keeping it simple.

"Odd jobs? What kind?" Hughes asked, leaning forward as if closeness would make Edward more likely to elaborate.

"Well I'm good with my hands." Edward stated with a mischievous grin.

Roy most certainly did _not_ nearly snort his drink. Gracia noticed, rolling her eyes. Hughes suspected absolutely nothing. The man was far to innocent for his own good.

"Oh. So you fix things?"

"Yeah. It pays a little more than you'd think. It's not around-the-clock though so it evens out I guess."

"Must get interesting."

"I guess."

And that was when the conversation trailed off and died somewhere at the side of the road. Roy had barely touched his food from nerves, Edward had bulldozed right through two plates and a bowl an had showed no signs of slowing down. Gracia hadn't eaten more than usual, considering, but had managed to drink nearly an entire pot of coffee(Which was decaf on Hughes' insistence.). Hughes himself had only picked out a plate of appetizers, content to watch Edward eat in amazement.

 

 

Edward was always glad for food. Especially _free_ food. Mustang was emanating quiet bloodlust beside him, but being polite so he didn't pay much attention to him aside from listening to the backstory he was fabricating with ease. He was far more interested in seeing if he could eat his weight in the exotic stews and wraps and weird potato things.

On a whim to see if he could piss off his week-long host any more than he already evidently was, he decided to slip in as many crude innuendos as he could without being blatantly obvious. Gracia noticed and raised a disapproving eyebrow and suddenly that was the end of _that_ game. Apparently he was not allowed to make light of his own situation around pregnant women. 

_She'd pop if she laughed. That's probably it._

At least he'd gotten a weird cough thing out of Mustang before he'd stopped with the barely hidden jokes. It wasn't much but a reaction was a reaction, no matter how slight. Victory was his for the moment. Of course, he'd been told to behave and he hadn't really even tried so there was probably some form of punishment waiting for him. As long as Mustang wasn't as creative as Greed he probably had nothing to worry about. Greed was a crafty and terrifying mastermind.

Eventually Edward's stomach had met its limit after fourths. Hughes whistled, impressed. Edward stood to bow. After that they all deemed it time to drive Edward and Mustang back to the latter's house and part ways. As soon as the front door was closed, the officer left for the living room without a word. He looked overly serious, so Edward followed him curiously.

Mustang took a newspaper, rolled it up, and whacked the top of Edward's head with it. "That was bad."

"Ow! I'm not a _dog_ , bastard." Edward whined, rubbing his head with both hands.

"Then don't act like one." Came the smug reply, followed by a sigh. "And maybe don't lick your fingers in public."

Edward's eyebrows skated up his forehead before he chuckled knowingly, putting on a wry mask. "Why? That turn you on?"

"Yes, it does. Which made an already awkward lunch with friends very unnerving."

"You know, you could probably pick me up and pin me too a wall if you wanted. That could be fun." All sincerity had gone from him. 

He was bought for fucking. A week of doing nothing but being a roommate wasn't right and it was idiotic to think he'd get through the whole week without a little violation. Might as well get part of it over with and stop the uncomfortable waiting. At least he was used to being used.

"Do you want me to do that, Edward?" Mustang asked, cocking his head to the side like the dog he'd just accused Edward of being.

There was the use of his _name_ and damn him for sharing it with this man. "I want to do what you're _paying_ me for."

"Of course." Mustang purred, proving it hadn't just been a one time thing. "Just because I'm paying you, correct?"

The officer moved toward Edward quickly, all straight-backed and domineering and the blonde fully realized he had openly invited the aggression. He completely accepted the feeling of being knocked back against the wall. He did not even try to pull back into his headspace. He wouldn't be able to, he knew Mustang's face far too clearly for that. 

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, he was lifted and was easily held up by strong hands cradling his ass, back still resting against the wall. Unsure of where his hands should be, he settled with above his head as it was usually where they were held out of the way anyway. He could easily feel through his pants that the officer was definitely interested.

Edward rolled his hips forward, and was rewarded with Mustang's tongue behind his ear. It was impressive what had been remembered after nearly a month, surely Mustang's memory must have been very sharp, or it was a very good guess. Then, Edward felt himself fall. He landed harshly on his ass, and the officer turned and left the room. The bastard had _dropped_ him.

"What the _hell?!_ " He yelled, and Mustang called back coolly.

"I don't want you doing this just because I'm paying you." From the sound of his voice, along with direction, he sounded a bit mad and he was heading upstairs where Edward had no wish to follow him.

"You've got some backwards logic." Edward muttered, unheard and alone on the floor.


	15. Hitting the Fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm using phonetically spelled Korean as Xingese.
> 
> Warnings: Heavily implied rape  
> Author is a horrible person.

Roy left Edward alone until about seven that evening, when he decided dinner was in order before the younger man's bottomless stomach made a comeback from lunch and took over the entire contents of the refrigerator anyway. 

But Edward wasn't there any more. His bag was still in the bedroom, so he would probably be back, but Edward himself was missing. It was already dark outside too, and Edward usually walked anywhere he wanted to go.

Edward could take care of himself, he'd been doing it already for quite possibly a long time. Roy should not have had the piercing feeling in his gut that he needed to worry. But then, his bad feelings had never cropped up for nothing. To make sure, he checked through Edward's satchel to see if he had taken his brother's book with him.

He hadn't. 

_Not going to the hospital then. Damn._

 

 

Edward spent ten minutes on the floor in complete silence, thinking. _No one_ on earth bought a hooker for a week just to have a rent-less roommate. Mustang had made it pretty clear that he wasn't going to initiate anything and that _shouldn't_ have been a problem. So Edward took initiative and it was suddenly wrong?

It _was_ a problem. It was unfamiliar and the proverbial other shoe hadn't dropped yet. Was he bought out of pity? Where was the money coming from anyway? Two thousand was one thing but _seven thousand?_ Then to just be flat out rejected when _he'd_ been the one to advance.

Greed hadn't started this mess but he'd definitely made sure it continued. Maybe Edward would feel better once he'd yelled at the asshole for it since he hadn't gotten the chance directly after. He needed to take a walk anyway, hopeful that it would be beneficial to stretch his leg. He wasn't of any use in Mustang's house anyway, at least not right now.

With his mind made up, Edward donned his red coat and headed out quietly. He explored the block he was one, making it around twice before veering off toward downtown toward The Devil's Nest, which was more familiar to him than even his own worn out apartment.

He never made it all the way to his destination.

"Well you've grown up nicely, _Edward._ " A mockingly sweet tone echoed through the alley. "Have you missed me?"

Edward froze, hands balling into fists as he forced himself not to shake. He slowly turned around, as if trying not to provoke a rabid dog, though the dog would have probably been preferable. White hat and all, the same as he'd always been in Edward's nightmarish memory.

"I can't say I have, no." Edward answered honestly, and turned around again, determined to keep walking. "Sorry, but I'm not for sale today."

The Devil's Nest was only half a block away. Greed was an ass but Ling was safe. Ling, Martel, Roa, even Dorochet. They were all safe if he could only reach them.

His knee bent without his will and he pitched forward onto the asphalt, scuffing his palms as he caught himself. _He_ had kicked the back of his knee. Quite hard in fact, Edward could have sworn he heard something in the joint crack. This was bad, and even if somehow he fought _him_ off there was no guarantee he'd be able to walk.

"Shit." Edward spat, and rolled onto his back to kick out blindly with his natural leg.

Hands wrapped around his ankle and yanked him back. His shirt and coat both road up, leaving the skin of his back to sting as he was dragged over the concrete. And _he_ laughed.

"Come, now. Wasn't it easier not to fight me before?" The man condescended, tutting cruelly.

"I was fifteen asshole!" Edward barked, trying to swing his leg to get out of the grip but most likely just making his back worse off.

"Temper, temper."

 

 

The first person Roy saw upon entering The Devil's Nest was the tattooed woman he'd seen arm wrestling Edward once. No doubt she was watching the front as goodness knows what went on behind the door to the back room. She worked here, but not in charge. Either way, she was useful.

"Excuse me, is Ed-Nicolai here?" He asked, possibly letting just a fraction of his concern into his voice.

"Um, no. I'm sorry, but who are you?" She asked, shifting her weight and placing a hand on her hip.

"Roy Mustang." He answered stiffly.

"Martel." She returned, not at all impressed.

"Nice to meet you. May I speak to your boss? It could be an emergency."

"Sure." She moved to the door and opened it, assaulting Roy's nose with a foul scent. "Ling! Move your stoned ass. There's some stiff here that want to talk to one of you. Or both, who knows."

It was a bit strange to hear someone talk to their employer so rudely, but this entire establishment was backward. The Xingese man, named Ling apparently, emerged with his half-lidded eyes somewhat bloodshot. He held himself differently from before, Roy noticed.

"Dangsin-eun mueos-eul wonhaneunga?" Ling asked, cradling a rather large _bucket_ of pork.

"Sorry, he can understand you just fine but he has a hard time speaking Amestrian when he's high." Martel explained.

Roy did his very best not to cringe at the inconvenience this caused, but at _least_ he would be understood. "Nicolai is missing. I'm worried, I thought he would be here."

Ling nodded, confirming his understanding. "Naega geuleul chaj-a gaseo nae ai leul bonaedeulibnida. Dangsin-eun yeogiiss-eo." Then Ling turned, leaning back into the door. "Dorochet! Roa! Nicolai leul chaj-a idonghabnida. Jiguem!"

 

 

Edward was screwed, both physically and mentally, and now he couldn't even leave the alley he'd been left in because he knee was practically scrapped. Not that he wanted to move for the moment anyway. The skin of his back and hands were raw, the former actually _bleeding._ He couldn't see out of his left eye, as it had been swollen shut. He knew for a fact he had a black eye, if not both. 

He laid there for an hour, give or take fifteen minutes, and spent the entire time crying. Dehydration was giving him a migraine, not that _that_ was his biggest issue for the time being.

"Oh shit..." A familiar voice sounded nearby, somewhere to his left. "Roa! I found him! It's okay Nic, we're taking you home."

And then there were large arms scooping him up and he _did not_ want anyone touching him but he was also too tired to care. Eventually he passed out sometime during the time he was being carried.


	16. Dysfunctional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a bit of angst.  
> Also yes there is very slight Greed/Martel/Dorochet in here I just didn't put it in tags because it's only barely hinted. If it becomes more important then I'll tag it. You can honestly read that tiny bit as platonic, physical, or romantic if you like, it's up for interpretation.

Roy grudgingly stayed in the front of the bar, only half listening as Ling rattled on in Xingese. He wanted to go out and look as well, but Martel told him that Ling had instructed that he was not allowed to leave the building.

He recognized the two men leaving the bar, but was only somewhat glad to have names to attach to the faces. He _was_ highly annoyed when the smaller of the men, Dorochet, had the gall to wink at him as he left. Dorochet was also carrying a long, thin sword on his belt, Roy noticed. It reminded him once again that things were strange in this place.

Ling just prattled on, munching on the pork he'd brought with him as he sat cross-legged on the counter with the bucket settled in his lap. Ling was also one to stuff his face an forsake napkins, and Roy wondered absently if Edward got his atrocious table manners from this man.

"So, why'd Nic run out?" Ling asked, switching to Amestrian once he'd sobered up a bit. "He was supposed to be staying with you for a week."

There was no malice in Ling's voice, just curiosity, and Roy sighed and explained. "I'm not sure. I've been doing my best to make sure he's comfortable but once I think He's getting there something snaps and he gets angry."

"That's why then. You're thinking of him first. He isn't used to that from anyone who wants to have sex with him." Ling says, reaching into the bucket and frowning when he found it empty. "You're something new."

The Xingese man handed the bucket off to Martel, who took it to the back room and started barking out orders for everyone to get out, leaving only employees and the officer. The silence spread once the patrons had cleared out. It gave Roy time to think over the oddly wise words.

Edward was out of his comfort zone, that much was clear. The sarcasm, insincerity, and the mood-swings were all common shields. The few times Edward had been completely open, it had become anger moments later. Whether the blonde trusted Roy or not, it was clear now that he didn't _want_ to.

"Because he's scared." He voiced aloud.

Ling nodded once slowly, and Roy wondered how a stoner sitting on top of a counter with grease on his fingers could suddenly look almost regal.

Edward was carried in by Roa almost half an hour later, bloody and unconscious. He looked like a mangled rag doll and Roy could feel his stomach fall and bile rise. He could have sworn his heart stopped as the carnage that was Edward passed. He was taken into the back room, while both Roy and Ling trailed after.

"Put him in my chair. Someone get a rag and clean him up." Ling ordered.

Roa was the one to put Edward down, and Martel went in search of the rag. Thankfully, Edwards's face wasn't as bad as it looked, but his back was a nightmare. There was also blood seeping through his pants where Roy knew the casing of the false leg ended. It would need to be removed. 

He moved forward, hiking up the left pant leg to start undoing the straps, but was stopped as Edward kicked him away and _screamed._ He barely had time to register what had happened as Ling flipped him onto the floor, reached out to take Dorochet's sword, and held the tip to Roy's throat. Ling was suddenly very different, closer to how Roy had first met him.

It looked like Ling, but sounded much rougher when he spoke, almost feral. "You don't touch him. Go sit your ass in the front and _wait._ Martel, _you_ take the leg off."

So Roy did exactly as he was told, Edward's scream echoing in the back of his mind. He had sounded so terrified.

 

 

Edward woke curled up in Ling and Greed's overstuffed chair, and while it was just as soft as it looked, he was unable to enjoy it. His entire body was sore, inside and out. He tried to straighten out to sit, but stopped as a sharp streak of pain coursed through him. He winced, biting back a grunt, and laid back down. His left leg felt too light, so he moved it experimentally. No drag of metal accompanied it. The room sounded mostly empty at least. He was glad for that, but it raised the question of what time it was now and how long he'd been out.

_Shit, where the fuck is my leg?_

"Hey boss! Sleeping beauty's awake." He heard Dorochet's voice, grating on his headache.

"Don't call me that, asshole." Edward slurred, drowsy. "Who took my leg?"

"It was cutting into your stump so Martel took it off. It's under the Throne, don't worry."

"I'm on the Throne." Edward observed aloud, not opening his eyes yet and having no desire to do so until his migraine at least lessened.

"Good observation." There was Roa's voice.

"No one's allowed on the Throne." He pointed out.

"I made an exception for you." Ling was here too apparently. "Figured you could use some time in my chair. Comfy, isn't it?"

"Can't fucking tell." He made a second attempt at sitting up, opening his eyes and looking around. "What time is it?"

Ling, Dorochet, and Roa were all present as Edward had already guessed. Paninya and Martel were also here, but both asleep in their own beanbag chair. The rest of the room was empty, which meant it was either extremely late or daytime. The back room's lack of windows or even a clock was problematic for having any temporal awareness and that was annoying.

"Four o'clock, roundabout? I have no clue, hold on." Ling then moved toward Paninya to check her watch. "Nope, only 3:42."

Paninya rolled over onto her side and began to snore, completely dead to the world.

"In the morning?"

"Yep. You've only been out a few hours, you woke up for like a second when we first got you here but you weren't too happy about it. Lucky your cop got worried or we wouldn't have gone out looking." Ling giggled, then grew suddenly solemn. "You could have been off worse if we hadn't."

"Tch," Dorochet interrupted and nudged Roa with his shoulder, " _We_ went looking. You sat on your ass and ate everything."

"Mustang got worried?"

"Yep. You kicked him actually. He's up front right now." Roa supplied, doing a poor job of hiding the fact he found Edward kicking a cop funny. "You were pretty freaked out so Greed made him wait in the other room."

"Go back to sleep, kid. Throne's yours for tonight and you need the rest. In fact," Ling began, turning to look at the girls on the bean bags with a warm smile. "Everyone needs the rest."

Dorochet released a sigh through his nose and moved to curl up with Martel, funny enough as the little spoon. Roa picked out his own bean bag, laying flat on his back, and Ling left for the front. Edward couldn't argue with the fact he did need rest, and he drifted off again, thankful for the dreamless void.

 

 

Roy waited in the front of the bar for hours before resting his head on the counter, listening to the ticking of the clock instead of sleeping. He couldn't sleep now even if he wanted. It felt as if he were waiting for someone to die, and his mind wandered to the thought-paradox of the cat in the box.

He could no longer see what condition Edward was in, and so every possibility was equally real until he was allowed to see the younger man again. It was terrifying and peaceful all at once and it scared him to be so worried.

The door to the back opened, and Ling passed through, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned to look at Roy, concern and anger both clear on his face before fading into irritated exhaustion.

"I gave him to you so you could look out for him." He growled, and Roy was aware that the one talking was more aggressive than the Ling he'd watched eat an entire bucket of meat. "We take care of each other here, we're family. These are my people and Nic is one of mine even if he doesn't live here like the others. If he gets hurt like this again on your watch it'll be on your ass."

Roy could tell the threat was not an empty one, but he had to point something out. "Are you sure threatening a police officer is wise?"

"A police officer who's been in a drug den multiple times and done nothing about it, as well as solicitation of prostitution with a minor." Not-quite-Ling pointed out with a smirk.

"A minor?" Roy asked, hoping he'd heard that wrong. "He's always in your bar, though!"

"When we took off his leg his ID cards fell out of his shoe. Both of them. Don't worry though, _Eddie_ will be legal by the end of the week." With that out in the open, Not-Ling returned to the back room. "Come pick out a spot to sleep. You're staying here until morning."

Edward was a _minor_ and Roy was certainly going to hell if he hadn't been headed there already. Unable to argue, he followed the spiteful creature wearing Ling's face into the back and followed everyone's lead on sleeping on a bean bag. He was only a little surprised when the Xingese man snuggled up to Martel and Dorochet, and spent the rest of his waking time watching Edward sleep in the very large chair.


	17. Day with the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. I work weekends and I was a little brain dead. Still a little brain dead sorry about that I guess.
> 
> Warnings: non-graphic vomit is the worst of it i think.
> 
> Author took a little creative liberty with birthdays. Ed's is Oct. 6. Roy's is May 31. Will do math for Al's later maybe who knows.

Upon waking, still sans leg and curled in the enormous chair, the first thing Edward noticed was that his palms and back were burning. The second thing he noticed was that he had an undeniable _need_ to vomit. He'd been drowsy and numb before, and in truth not much had differed from usual aside from the fact he hadn't been paid and now had a severe case of road rash. The main difference, at least this time, was that the _first_ face was no longer a distant memory. Old wounds had been made fresh and it sickened him more than anything.

So he rose from the chair intent on making his way to the bathroom as quickly as possible. His intention was then halted abruptly as he pitched forward, catching himself yet again on freshly scabbing hands. In his urgency he hadn't even thought to reattach his leg, which lay forgotten under the Throne. It wouldn't have been much help even if he _had_ been wearing it. The knee was shattered all to hell anyway.

Crawling to the bathroom would never be fast enough and his stomach was protesting _now_ , so Edward pulled himself to a corner out of the way and retched. He had little more than bile to bring up, so for a few minutes he was left to painfully heave air. Unsurprisingly, this caused the others to rouse.

The first to speak was Dorochet as he disentangled himself from Martel. "I ain't cleaning that shit up."

"Well someone's going to have to do it." Greed huffed indignantly, moving only to accept Martel into his arms as Dorochet's warmth left her. "The kid's sick so he's off the hook. And I mean that both ways, _Ed._ "

Edward, though his vision was mostly obscured by his hair, was aware that Greed was shooting him a condescending glare. The use of his own name was not lost on him, and though he felt his stomach give another unpleasant shift, he wasn't going to question it. 

"I don't work for you, Greed. You can't put me on or off the hook and I'm pissed at you anyway." Edward spat, but stayed doubled over where he was. "Go to hell."

Greed only grinned and sat up, spreading his arms to gesture about the room. His humor needed no words, and Martel groaned as she was abandoned on both sides now.

"Dammit boys, it's cold in here." She growled, and left the beanbag entirely to stand. "Both of you are assholes. You okay Nic?"

"Do I look okay to you?" He responded with obvious irritation.

"His name is Edward!" Greed supplied cheerfully, and Edward shot him the finger as Martel left in a grumpy huff.

"Fuck off, Greed. Go away."

 

 

Roy was awake as soon as the sour scent of vomit reached him, but the unfamiliar surroundings took him a moment to process. He was the The Devil's Nest on a beanbag on the floor, still in yesterday's clothes. But why?

Edward left. Roy was worried. Roy talked to Ling. Edward was hurt. _Edward was hurt. **Edward was hurt.**_

He wasn't even sure why he was so concerned, he just _was._ He was angry too, as if Edward's assault affected him personally even though it was purely the blonde's burden. Roy had the urge to throw something, but stifled it now in favor of observation.

If Roy turned his head just slightly, he could see Edward off in a corner, still heaving. Others were waking up as well, Dorochet starting up a conversation. For now, Roy would only listen. He was the outsider in this place anyway.

Edward ended up conversating with Ling for a while, whom he was now calling 'Greed' and Roy supposed it would make sense for Ling and Not-Quite-Ling to have different names.

"Fuck off, Greed. Go away." Edward huffed, and the Xingese man's entire posture changed, confirming his duality further.

Once _Greed_ had melted away into Ling, Edward visibly relaxed.

"Sorry for fucking up your floor." The blonde apologized, scrubbing his hands over his face after he'd wiped them off on his pants.

"That's alright. It'll wash out." Ling said, waving him off before approaching and kneeling down next to the younger man. "Anything you need?"

"I don't think you can bleach out my whole fucking life, can you?" Asked quietly, sounding sarcastic if not for the nearly inaudible undertone of regret.

Ling just shook his head. "No, but I could sneak you a drink or two. I already sell drugs and host street fights. Giving booze to a minor would be the least of my worries if your cop decides to rat on all of us."

Edward let out a dry chuckle, claiming he'd never drink. Roy frowned. Since when was he _Edward's cop_ and why was he given that nickname? Roy decided quickly that if he was going to break his silence and announce his consciousness, he should do it now.

"I'm not ratting on anyone. No one is actually getting hurt here, but Edward should report whoever... _attacked_ him."

Edward looked up at Roy like the older man had shot him, but that quickly morphed into smoldering rage. "Like hell I will! Are you forgetting what I _do?_. As far as the legal system goes I was asking for it and I'll be arrested instead for prostitution. Not. Fucking. Happening."

"You could _stop_ selling yourself?" Ling suggested in a nervous voice, anticipating a bad reaction in advance and scooting away from the blonde.

"I can't afford to quit. I need the fucking money." Edward stated through his teeth.

The young man then yanked the hair tie from his mostly unwound braid, snapping it in the process as it had embedded itself in his horribly tangled hair. He cursed under his breath at the loss, but began aggressively finger-brushing his hair anyway as if it would alleviate his stress.

Ling sighed and took out his own white ribbon, letting his black hair fall freely over his shoulders. He took over with Edward's hair, who allowed it as he muttered complaints about his hands hurting anyway. Ling fixed the golden hair into a high tail, and moved away again once he was finished to return Edward's space to him.

Dorochet, despite the fact he had claimed he wouldn't clean up the vomit on the floor, eventually brought a mop over. He grumbled about the smell, but didn't make any serious complaints.

Everyone else in the back room eventually left after quietly milling about, gathering their things for the day from behind the wine rack. Roy realized with a start, even though he supposed he _had_ already been told, that nearly every one of the people who worked here also _lived_ here.

"Could you describe them then? If I can figure out who they are I could catch them on something else and you wouldn't have to be involved at all." Roy tried again, keeping his voice level even though he was angry.

Someone had done a terrible thing to Edward. That in itself was infuriating, and the blonde was taking it far too well for it to have been a new occurrence. The officer's rage only intensified as Edward rattled off an _exact_ description of Zolf J. Kimblee, right down to the two loose strands of hair.

 

 

Edward and Mustang both spent all day in the back of The Devil's Nest. Edward had relocated to a bean bag, broken prosthetic left detached and on the floor to his right. Mustang busied himself with tidying things up for want of something to do, and Dorochet was openly glad for the momentary reprieve from his usual custodial duties. The officer also took the time to familiarize himself with everyone, and Edward would admit he found it funny that Paninya kept taking things from the officer's pocket's to replace them in a completely different one.

Edward himself, was for the most part left alone. He knew Ling had already explained what had happened to anyone who hadn't already guessed, so the crew was giving him plenty of space for now and while he was glad for their consideration, he found it mildly annoying. He didn't like too much attention, but he also didn't like feeling isolated.

For this reason, Edward was glad when Mustang dragged a bean bag over to sit facing him.

"When is your birthday, then?" Was the first thing to leave the officer's moth and Edward wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but it wasn't _that_.

"The sixth, Thursday." He answered, raising an eyebrow as he fell back into his comfortable snark. "Planning on a party? When's yours?"

"I might be. May thirty-first. I am thirty-four at the moment."

"Oh..." Edward said, sounding surprised but not bothered. "I thought you were mid-twenties or something. Creepy."

"Why creepy?" Mustang asked, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.

"You are literally twice my age." Edward deadpanned.

"I'm aware. To be fair though, I originally assumed you were in your early twenties and simply had a young face."

"Still creepy. Do me a favor and go ask Ling if he has any food that isn't questionable."

"As you wish." Roy stated with a dramatic sigh.

Roy stood and left to do as had been requested, leaving Edward to wonder when exactly he'd started thinking of the officer by his first name instead of his last. Another flutter touched his heart, and again he tried to ignore it. It was harder this time, but on top of everything else he had no room for _that_ nonsense.


	18. Confessing to a Crutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse. Also will be on Hiatus for a little over a week due to family vacation.

As Roy returned to the front to ask Ling about food, as had been requested, he found himself shoved roughly against the counter by a suddenly and inexplicably irate Xingese man. His right arm had been twisted behind him, and two fingers were biting into the dip of his shoulder, causing his left to go numb.

"Not Ling now, I'm guessing?" Roy voiced, not struggling against the hold despite the hard-top digging uncomfortably against his sternum.

"Actually this is coming from both of us. Greed just thought it best to immobilize you first." Ling stated coolly, and the voice behind him shifted. "The kid tell you who fucked him up?"

It was odd to hear. The core vocals remained identical, but the two minds in this man had such different ways of speaking. Differing tones, inflections, and Roy would go out on a limb and make the assumption that their speech patterns were another identifying feature.

"He may have. Am I right to assume you'll be aiming to take this matter into your own hands?" Roy asked, trying to flex his left fingers but finding himself unable.

"I told you. We're a family here. Everyone here is _mine_ and now one of them is hurting. I just want to send the bastard responsible to Hell were he belongs." Greed growled, strengthening his grip.

"I would let you, but then I would also have to arrest you. While I can overlook your bar, I would be forced to take action if you became a murder suspect. I shouldn't have to tell you that this would also endanger your _family_."

There was silence as the man behind Roy thought over this reasoning, and then the hands holding him in place quivered. They did not loosen, but the officer could feel a distinct tremor. A sigh, then the lighter tone of the same voice spoke.

"Let him go, Greed." The hands continued to hold, though their grip was weakening. "I said let go!"

The hands flew away as if burned, accompanied by an annoyed scoff. Roy turned himself around and massaged his left shoulder, willing the deadened arm to regain feeling.

"I will be increasing my patrols. If I am very lucky there's a chance I'll be able to get the man responsible sent to State prison with a referral for Death Row. It depends on what I can catch him doing. He's been in and out of jail constantly for arson, so it won't be hard getting him in. It's keeping him there that's the trick." The officer explained, keeping his voice even.

While Roy disliked having been attacked and pinned down so easily, he could empathize with the protective rage the other man - men? - likely felt.

"He needs his leg fixed." Ling stated suddenly. "And a safe place to stay. I've offered to let him stay here a few times but he never does. You've still got him for the week, don't screw up this time. Figure out where the extra money is going. Roa!"

"Yeah Boss?" Called the bulky man, whom Roy had overlooked until now.

"Take Edward to the officer's car. They're leaving."

"Yes sir."

 

 

Edward was fairly sure that mooching for food usually did not take this long. Especially considering nobody who called The Devil's Nest home cooked. Fast food and left overs from said fast food was the go-to nourishment here, unless you counted olives and second-rate peanuts. 

Ling and/or Greed had probably bullied Roy into some warped version of the Big Brother Talk, which was both idiotic and irritating. Then again, the Xingese man had twelve older brothers, so if he felt it necessary, Edward wouldn't stop him. He would personally love to have such a speech prepared if Alphonse woke up by some miracle and found a partner, though chances of that were increasingly thin.

Roa shook Edward from his thoughts with his heavy steps, making a beeline for the blonde on the beanbag. Without a word he bent to scoop Edward up over his shoulder, and though he was not actually afraid, the sudden contact and breach of personal space made his skin crawl. 

Roa must have felt him tense. "You're alright, kid. I'm just moving you, you can kick my ass when you can walk."

"I'm holding you to that. Don't forget my leg. I'd rather get it repaired, not replaced." Edward reminded, trying his best not to over balance and fall when the larger man bent to retrieve the false appendage. "Make sure nothing falls out of my boot. I need that stuff."

Roa grunted, a gruff affirmative as they passed through the front room and outside to Roy's car where he'd apparently been waiting.

"What happened to getting me something to eat, asshole?" Edward snarked as he was fitted into the front seat, his leg being tossed into the back. "Careful with that, Roa! Damn."

Roa simply rolled his eyes, slamming the doors shut and lumbering back into the bar. Roy watched him go for a moment before turning the key and pulling away from the sidewalk.

"We'll get something to eat on the way, then I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Bite me, that's why." Edward spat, crossing his arms in front of him.

"You know that actually hurt." Roy teased, moving one hand from the wheel to rub at the connecting area of neck and shoulder.

Edward nearly didn't get the joke until he remembered he'd bitten the officer nearly a month before, the only time he'd gotten any form of _work_ done with this strange man. He scratched the bridge of his nose and directed his gaze out the window at the passing scenery. He could feel himself blush, and even though it was dark he would take no chances of it being seen.

"I'll heal on my own. I don't need to go to the hospital." Edward said, elaborating on his earlier 'No.' 

"Your hands are raw, your back looks like hell, and you could have any number of internal damages. I honestly should have taken you sooner, but I doubt Ling or Greed would have let me take you anywhere until now." Roy reasoned calmly.

"I don't hurt that bad." It was a blatant lie, but Edward hated showing weakness. "Couldn't afford the bill anyway. Just feed me and let me sleep."

Roy fell silent, but Edward could practically hear the gears whirring in the older man's head. Apparently Edward had won the discussion, at least for now, as Roy took them through a drive-through and then straight back to his house without a word. Oddly enough, Roy did not look the slightest bit annoyed, only contemplative. Somehow that made the silence worse.

The two took turns showering after they had eaten, Roy helping Edward around the house without a single complaint. Though he did feel humiliated, Edward had no intention of pushing Roy away. He needed the help and he knew it, it was good fortune that the officer apparently didn't mind being a human crutch. 

After bathing, Roy sat Edward down on the lid of the toilet and took a first aid kit from the mirrored cabinet over the sink. He'd brought Edward a pair of his underwear from his satchel, as well as a pair of his own, plaid blue pajama pants as all Edward had in the way of trousers was rough denim and leather. The blonde was glad to be granted the small privacy, but made no attempt to mask his annoyance at the length of the legs through a series of huffs and flailing his stump.

Roy chuckled at the small, quiet tantrum as he took out a roll of gauze and rubbing alcohol. "I won't make you go to the hospital this time, and I can't do anything for your back. Your hands need wrapped at the very least, is that alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Edward shrugged, and held out his hands with his palms up.

The alcohol stung like hell, but he barely flinched. Roy decided it was time for serious conversation now, and he spoke up as he worked.

"You took the situation last night fairly well considering you were..." Roy began, but trailed off, brow furrowing in anger.

"Raped." Edward finished, far too calm. "You get used to it, after a while. Occupational hazard I guess. It still... It scars but... Usually I don't feel much."

Roy's frown deepened, worry lines becoming more apparent and showing his age as he rolled the gauze around one hand. "Do you mind if I ask when you got started in all of this? You seem far too used to it."

"First time was when I was fifteen." Edward answered honestly, and his face fell. "Same guy, actually..." He added quietly, nearly flinching as Roy released a disgusted growl.

"For your brother, right?" Roy guessed, and Edward's eyes widened in surprise.

"How did you-?"

"Your comment on hospital bills, but I already had a suspicion. You have a job already, and you aren't on drugs or with a pimp. It's obvious you aren't using your earnings for yourself, you're caring for someone else. Some people are idiots, I am not one of them." Roy pulled the gauze tight and tied it off, then moved to work on the other hand.

"Just keep it to yourself."

"Of course." Roy nodded, understanding. "Tomorrow is Monday. I have a telephone upstairs if you need to call in. Do you think you'll be able to manage?"

"Probably not. If I hang off of you we'll probably both fall. I could probably crawl but that'd take forever and I'd never get down again. I'll explain when I get my leg fixed and go back to work. I'll need you to make a call though, if you don't mind?"

"What for?"

"My leg's custom made by a friend in Risembool. She's the only one who can fix it, so I'll need her to come here. She uh...doesn't know what I've been doing for Al so I need you to keep that part quiet." Edward chuckled dryly. "She'd kill me if she knew."

"Fair enough, write down her number."

 

 

Roy made the phone call once Edward had settled onto his stomach on his bed. He'd taken off the pajama bottoms, having grown annoyed with the left pant leg becoming hopelessly tangled with everything.

Winry Rockbell sounded worried, but happy to hear her friend was alright for the most part. True to his word, Roy left out the circumstance in which the leg had been broken. He merely made sure she knew an address, and that her handiwork was necessary. Edward would tell her what he deemed needed knowledge, it was not Roy's place to do so.

With the phone call over with, Roy returned to his room where Edward lay, already asleep. His raw back had been left uncovered, though a sheet wrapped around his leg. His hair was still damp, wrung out instead of dried properly, and Roy sighed.

_He'll get sick if he keeps that up._

Roy crawled into his own side of the bed, rolling onto his side to face Edward's prone form. The blonde's face was half squashed into the pillow, mouth open slightly. His hair was a mess, falling over his eyes, so Roy gave in to the impulse to brush the golden hair out of the younger man's face. Edward grunted, and shifted to move an arm in the way of his face without waking. Roy watched him for a moment, then allowed himself to drift off as well.


	19. Not a Chapter

I know I said I would continue this. I had every intention of doing so.

 

I can't. I'm so sorry.

 

When I started writing this I was dealing with abuse, a lot of which was sexual abuse. This story was my way of venting and trying to make light of my situation. I am now removed from that situation and much happier, though I am suffering from PTSD. Four years of rape don't heal in only one year. 

 

I love this story, don't get me wrong, but every time I try to write for it, it just draws what I had to go through to the front of my mind. I tried. I just can't do it.

 

I hope those that read this understand. 

 

I do still love Fullmetal Alchemist, every version of it, and I won't delete this fic. As it stands now it won't be continued.


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